


Constant Missteps

by Trexi



Series: Wrong Universe [1]
Category: Merlin (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barry Allen Needs a Hug, F/M, Leonard Snart Lives, M/M, Magic Reveal, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trexi/pseuds/Trexi
Summary: Flashpoint doesn’t go over nearly as well with everyone, eventually leading to Barry taking on all the Star Labs and Flash duties by himself. Good thing something made time spit one Leonard Snart out of the Oculus explosion and into the pipeline right when Barry pushes himself too far.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Wrong Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721722
Comments: 47
Kudos: 191





	1. Time Displacement

**BARRY**

No active threats in Central. Star Labs is just that little bit closer to being able to properly hire people again. Programming guides are starting to make a lot more sense. Julian hasn’t yelled at me for not being good enough in like a week. Everything’s fine. Perfect really. If I look at it from a certain angle and ignore the obvious. Nothing important is missing. Not really. Sure, it might be nice if I could talk to… Well, they’re not here. And they’re not coming back. It’s no big deal anyway. Understandable, if anything. Expected, even. Better, not at all. But it’s not like I can change it.

Besides, I can get so much more done with nobody else around, except Gideon of course. I don’t have to slow down to ‘real time’ with her or try and interpret what she’s saying while I’m tapped into the Speed Force. It’s always been a hassle trying to communicate with those who are bound by normal perceptions of time. This way, I can go as fast as I want and easily fit the equivalent of four full-time jobs into a standard week. CSI, Flash, Star Labs Owner, and AI Programmer. I’m perfectly capable of handling them all. Sure, I haven’t really spoken to another human outside of the CCPD or Flash quips for over a month, but that’s fine. Conversations lead to closeness and closeness leads to hurting them.

I’m fine this way. I have to be.

Gideon’s company enough, even if I’m still not finished learning all I need to complete her programming. Maybe when I’m done, I’ll be able to spare enough time to get at least six hours sleep every day. Or I could extend Flash patrol times. Wally’s doing great as Kid Flash with the old team backing him up, but that doesn’t mean I should start slacking off or anything. I do that and soon enough he’ll be dropping the ‘Kid’, and I’ll be that forgotten hero of Central City, the one nobody likes talking about. It’s not like I don’t trust Wally to be able to handle it. He won’t break time like I did. But I don’t want his main priority to be protecting the city. He doesn’t deserve that burden.

Used to be that there’d be people around to tell me that I don’t deserve the burden either, yet now there’s only Gideon, but she doesn’t count. I’m her creator. Of course she’s going to care about me. I barely remember writing that part of her code. It only made sense that she had some sort of duty of care towards people, but I hadn’t expected her to turn it on me so much. I’m sure if I had gotten some more sleep at the time, I could’ve spared her the waste in processing power, but she’s since locked me out from that part of her code. Guess I designed her self-preservation protocols a little too well. All I wanted was to make sure that she didn’t suffer the same fate as everyone and everything that I care about. Besides, it’s my duty as her creator to protect her.

Duties, burdens or otherwise, are pretty much all I’ve got holding me together right now. That and moving so quickly between different tasks that I don’t have enough time to think properly about what led me here. As it is, I apparently need to be doing more at once if I’ve gotten this deep in self-contemplation.

“How’s the acceptance rate on non-criminal metas lately?” I ask Gideon, my words an unintelligible garble to anyone who can’t process them quickly enough.

“Up 3% over the last month,” Gideon answers.

“Good, good. I’ll swing by as the Flash at some point next week to that fundraiser Oliver was hosting in Central. Do you think he might be a little calmer about the whole abusing my powers for selfish reasons thing yet? Or should I keep things professional still?”

“I am not familiar enough with Mr Queen to be able to calculate his capacity for forgiveness and basic reasoning.”

Oh, right. I keep forgetting that Gideon gets a bit protective sometimes.

“Right, so stay professional. It’s probably best. Oliver is busy with his own city. He shouldn’t have to worry about my actions affecting our entire universe just because he isn’t here to babysit me.”

The Speed Force falters, but I wrap it around myself before I can drop out of it completely. I’ve got to keep moving. Can’t stop yet.

“What do you say about me setting up that emergency protocol, so you can contact other versions of your program across time?” I ask.

That should keep me occupied until it’s time to for the third and final patrol of the day.

“Mr Allen, I advise against this action.”

I shake my head. “Gideon, you advise against any action that doesn’t involve twelve hours straight of sleep and an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“And I will continue to do so until you are no longer experiencing severe exhaustion and minor malnutrition.”

“It’s fine, Gideon. The black spots haven’t quite taken out half of my vision yet. I can push my body at least another hour before I need a thirty-minute nap.”

“That would be insufficient for your body’s needs.”

“That’s what you said about only eating an apple for lunch.”

“At this rate, your energy reserves will last another twenty-seven seconds in real time before your body goes into hypoglycaemic shock. You will not recover from such a state without external assistance, as it is out of my capabilities to physically assist you. I advise contacting Dr Snow. As you primary medical caregiver, she is the most suitable choice.”

I jerk out of the Speed Force. My legs give out. I crash into the cortex wall and slump against the floor.

“No calling Caitlin.”

Gideon would sigh, but I haven’t gotten around to finishing her frustration algorithms. “I advise against this action,” she repeats.

I laugh, my vision dipping to black for a moment. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure that Caitlin wouldn’t come anyway. She still blames me for Flashpoint.”

They all do.

“Without adequate food and rest or medical attention, the likelihood of you living beyond the next 24 hours is 0.02%.”

There’ll probably be a celebration.

“Don’t worry, Gideon. I’m sure someone will eventually come to Star Labs and make sure that your coding is finished.”

“ _You_ are my creator, Mr Allen. I will not allow you to continue without external assistance.”

My vision darkens again. “Look, I’ll take a small nap, and then afterwards, I’ll make myself a snack or something. There’s no need to bother anyone on a Friday night, Gideon. Between you and me, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s Tuesday, Mr Allen.”

Huh. Guess I’ll have to go to work tomorrow then. Hopefully, Joe doesn’t share any cases with me. He always looks so disappointed in me these days. And it sucks that Eddie always stares at me so much guilt in his eyes. I’m not sure why he does that. I’m the one who broke time. It’s only right that those most affected hate me for it. Maybe I should take Kara up on that offer to change Earths. There’s nothing here for me anymore. Wally’s doing great at being Kid Flash with the old team backing him up. Central City doesn’t need the Flash that keeps messing with time. And the CCPD doesn’t need Barry Allen with Julian around.

I’ve got to finish Gideon first. Then I’ll go. It’s not like anyone will notice me missing.

I’ll just take a small nap for now.

Just a small nap.

“Alert. Time displacement in the pipeline. Alert. Time displacement…”


	2. Medical Attention

**LEN**

If I’d known that being caught in the middle of a time explosion would give me this big of a headache, maybe I would’ve tricked Palmer into retaking his spot on the dead man’s switch. A little heads up that I wasn’t actually going to die would’ve been nice. At least I didn’t follow through on giving Mick my cold gun, or I’d be unarmed on top of being stuck with a raging headache. It’s probably too much to hope that it was all a bad dream and that I’m back in Central, organising the Rogues into a team to give the CCPD and Flash a real challenge.

Lisa would find it hilarious that one of my first thoughts after ‘coming back from the dead’ is about the Scarlet Speedster. After she stopped hitting me for leaving on a time ship with only a short note as explanation. First thing I’m doing when I get home is stealing a diamond as an apology for her. It might be enough to cut down her inevitable silent treatment from a month to a week if I’m lucky. I doubt my head hurting so much that I can’t open my eyes would change anything. A pissed Lisa is an unreasonable one.

“Alert. Time displacement in the pipeline.”

I know that voice.

“Gideon?” I confirm, reluctantly opening my eyes and wincing at the immediate stabbing pain in my skull.

“Voice recognised. Welcome, Leonard Snart. Records show you as deceased. Would you like me to update your entry?”

“Where’s the Waverider?” I ask instead of answering.

Records are probably right if the year’s late enough. No point in messing with that.

“You are currently in the Star Labs particle accelerator pipeline. What is your level of medical expertise?”

Star Labs? I swear if that Scarlet-clad energiser bunny expects some big gesture of gratitude for dragging my damned ass from the middle of a time implosion, he’s got another thing coming.

“Where’s the Flash?” I ask, stalking along the inner wall and eyeing any potential weak points that I could ice my way through. “And what’s medical expertise got to do with anything? Do you want me to certify that I’m not actually dead? I thought your scanners would cover that.”

“Mr Allen is currently in the cortex.”

“Okay, and that stops him from getting me out of here, why?”

“He requires medical attention.”

I roll my eyes. “So he got a bit beat up in a fight? That’s just part of the job. Barry can handle it fine. Even if he couldn’t, he’s got his team to back him up.”

“You and Mr Allen are the only ones present in Star Labs.”

“So?” I question, finding an open heavy-duty door. “Just call one of the goody-two-shoes squad in. Doc Snow would be more than happy to help Scarlet out until his healing kicks in.”

“Mr Allen has ordered me to not call in external assistance.”

And Barry’s the kind of stupid to get help over a papercut, but attempt to take care of a fractured rib on his own.

“Well, I order you to ignore that idiot. He once fought me and Mick with a broken ankle. A couple of thousand dollars isn’t worth almost getting himself killed. Scarlet’s lucky that I felt like going easy on him.”

Still got the money though. I haven’t gone _that_ soft. Only reason I practically sacrificed myself was to save Mick. He wouldn’t have been in that mess if it weren’t for me, and I wasn’t about to let him take the fall for me again.

“Nobody has the authority to counteract my creator’s orders.”

“Creator? You never mentioned that Barry made you on the Waverider.”

“I am not yet the AI that you became familiar with during your time with the Legends.”

Right. You’d think I’d be better at the time travel thing by now. Doesn’t explain why nobody except Barry is around. Judging from the rest of Star Labs, nobody else has been around for a while. Just how long has it been since I ‘died’?

I ask Gideon as much,

“The Legends reported you as deceased six months ago.”

My stride falters. Only six months? What the hell happened here?

“What’s Barry need medical attention for?” I ask.

“Minor malnutrition, hypoglycaemic shock, and severe exhaustion.”

I break into a run. “Where the fuck is his family? They’re meant to look after the self-sacrificing idiot!”

“They are unaware of the severity of the situation.”

“You mean they haven’t noticed? Malnutrition isn’t something you miss, especially when it’s your family.”

“Mr Allen is adept at concealing his symptoms.”

“Mr Allen has a hell of a lot of explaining to do,” I mutter, finally reaching the cortex. “Barry!” I snap, scanning the room for the apparently starving speedster,

A Scarlet-shaped lump on the floor next to the far wall shifts. I curse every member of the so-called ‘Team Flash’ in three different languages.

“Assume I have no medical training,” I say, because stitching up bullet wounds is one thing, but I haven’t had to deal with anything like this since I was still a kid living with Lewis and Lisa. That involved self-treatment though and not whatever a speedster would need. “What do I need to do?” I ask.

Gideon gives me instructions while I pick Barry up and carry him to the medbay that I know is somewhere near here. The AI is kind enough to direct me. Barry only looks worse in the medbay lighting, his skin paler than I’ve ever seen it before, even when he got his back broken on live TV by that speedster villain wannabee. I got harassed for days after letting myself react to that while in Iron Heights. Scarlet saved my sister’s life. I wasn’t not going to be a little concerned when someone took him down so easily. And now it looks like he’s done this to himself.

Not that he would have if he’d had his family here.

I’m just glad Barry isn’t in his Flash costume, or it’d get in the way of me attaching the IV drip to his arm. Apparently, the solution is one especially designed for idiot speedsters who let themselves get hypoglycaemic. That just means this is a common enough occurrence that his team would know about. Where the hell are they then? The only reason that I don’t ask Gideon is because I need her help more in saving her creator. When did Barry even have time to make an AI? He’s already got two full-time jobs saving this ungrateful city instead of using his powers for the sane thing, namely helping himself.

It takes two hours, fifteen minutes and forty-eight seconds for Gideon to declare Barry stabilised and for me to finally be able to take something for my headache. I follow the AI’s directions to a place where I can get changed into something a little more comfortable, keeping my cold gun strapped to my thigh. If I happen to yell at a few walls before returning to the medbay, then that’s just so I can keep even a little calm around the resident speedster when he wakes up. Getting information out of him will be hard enough without adding arguing to it. And I’m not going anywhere until I find out what the idiot was thinking letting himself get into this state. If he was even thinking.

Gideon refuses to spill on where exactly Team Flash are, so I resign myself to sitting back in the chair next to Barry’s bed and cleaning scuff marks off my cold gun with what is either a rag or a shirt that Ramon left lying around. I don’t particularly care which. Barry sleeps soundly for twenty minutes and fifty-one seconds before stirring. I throw the shirt behind me, slip my gun into its holster, and stand up. Don’t want to look like I’ve been waiting by a superhero’s bedside after all. I have a reputation to keep.

The speedster must hear me move because when he opens his eyes, he’s looking right at me.

“Snart?”

“Barry.”

Barry slumps back and groans. “Can’t believe I’m hallucinating.”

I rip the speedster’s pillow out from under his head. The thump snaps him out of his daze.

“What the hell, Snart?”

I cross my arms. “I could ask the same thing, Scarlet. What the hell was going through your head letting yourself starve?”

“I ate enough.”

“Bullshit. You didn’t eat enough for a non-meta, let alone enough for someone with your metabolism. If the time stream hadn’t spat me out here and now, you would’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“So?” Barry asks, and the CSI looks genuinely confused.

I grip my cold gun. “Gideon, give me the locations of every former member of Team Flash. I have some assholes to ice.”

“Cancel that, Gideon,” Barry orders. “Confirm Leonard Snart’s identity, and bring up Captain Lance’s report on the Time Masters incident.”

I reluctantly holster my cold gun. “Just call it my death report, Barry. I thought I was going to die there anyway before I appeared in your superhero clubhouse.”

“Ally Leonard Snart’s identity has been confirmed,” Gideon says. “Incident report does not record proof of loss of life. Likelihood of survival was 0.00001%.”

Guess I got lucky then. I’m not going to argue the ally status just now. Priorities.

“Doesn’t matter how I got here. Only matters how everything went to shit in the six months I’ve apparently been dead, plus however long I was with the Legends.”

My sense of time passing may be perfect, but that assumes my time on the Waverider is equal to the time I was gone.

“It was the same thing that always happens,” Barry says with a bitter smile. “I made a giant mistake, and everyone else paid the price. This time they didn’t stick around to keep watching the Barry Allen Disaster Extradonaire show.”

“I seriously doubt that whatever you did could possibly be that bad.”

Even if he cracked and killed someone, the archer would still stick around at the very least.

Barry snorts derisively. “Gideon, give Snart access to the Flashpoint incident report. Help him find his sister when he’s ready to leave.”

“I’m not backing down until you’re back in proper form and able to challenge me again,” I insist.

The speedster stares at me like I’ve just declared to never steal again.

“You will,” he says.

“You should know by now that telling me what I’m going to do won’t ever convince me, Scarlet. I’m only going to visit Lisa before I read that report because she’d kick my ass if she ever found out that I didn’t see her the moment I got back. I doubt saying I was helping the Flash is going to make it any better. Don’t doubt for a second that I’m not coming back.”

Barry shakes his head. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t a dream.”

“Dream about me often, Barry?” I ask, walking off while he’s still sputtering.

There’s nothing more satisfying than getting one over the Flash. Now, I just have to drop by Lisa’s for a quick chat, and I can get back to figuring out what happened to my favourite hero.

*

So he tried to save his mother, created a new timeline, things went bad, he tried to put things back, and everyone’s blaming him for it not being perfect instead of admitting that they would’ve done the exact same thing if they had his powers. Do they expect Barry to be the epitome of goodness and self-restraint or something? It’s like they’ve never noticed how unbelievably impulsive the speedster can be. I refuse to believe that a family who actually gave a damn would abandon someone over a mistake. People are allowed to make stupid ass decisions. That’s what makes them people. 

“You’re an idiot,” I declare, stalking back into the medbay right as said idiot is trying to get out of bed. I glare at him until he lies back down and claim the closest seat. “Furthermore, your so-called friends are idiots. I’m close to declaring the entire city idiots for good measure. Do you think robbing every bank in one night and leaving an iced message spelling it out for them would be clear enough, or do I have to go bigger? I’m leaning towards the second option.”

“Did you read the report?” Idiot Number One asks, stubbornly sitting up because apparently even geniuses can be that stupid.

“ _Did I read the report?_ Of course, I read the damn report, Barry. Why else do you think I’m so annoyed?”

“Maybe your visit with Lisa didn’t end well.”

I scoff. “I’ll have you know that it went just fantastic once she stopped shooting at me. I’m sure she’ll handle herself just fine until I’m finished with you.”

Barry finally starts looking concerned. “And what exactly do you plan to do with me?”

“Vacation,” I answer. “You are long overdue. I’ve already gotten your police captain to agree to it. Found out I technically have a Presidential Pardon in the process that I can’t wait to make the most of.”

“You’re going to take me on a _vacation_?” Barry asks, and his stares of disbelief are starting to get irritating.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s some kind hearted gesture or some other bullshit. You, Bartholomew Allen, need a break from this city and its idiocy. What kind of people abandon the person responsible for saving their lives twice a week? Idiots. That’s who. And now I’m apparently the closest thing you’ve got to a friend that isn’t one you built. I for one am not letting you throw your life away in a spiral of self-destruction just because everyone else in your life is too stupid to stay by your side after making a mistake that anyone in your situation would’ve made.”

“But why do you care, Snart? Why aren’t you taking advantage of an overworked Flash?”

“Because you made me a better version of myself, Scarlet. _Obviously_.” I roll my eyes, and if that means not looking directly at the speedster, then that’s just a bonus. “Now, tell me you’ve got somewhere picked out as an ideal vacation spot because I want us leaving the moment Gideon gives you the all clear.”

“I suppose I could visit Kara,” Barry says.

“Great. Who’s that?”

“A friend from a different universe. You see, we live in a Multiverse with infinite universes that are connected but all have these differences like… You don’t care, do you?”

“Not really, but if you want to keep explaining, I’ll listen. I’m not going to say no to information that could help me one day.”

Barry scoffs. “Even if you have to listen to my voice?”

“I happen to like your voice, Scarlet, so long as you aren’t breaking out the ‘there’s so much good in you’ tone. That just gets annoying.”

“You like my voice?” Barry repeats.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re a supervillain.”

“So?”

“So you’re not meant to like me at all.”

“What part of I’m the closest thing you have to a friend here did you not get?” I ask. “I’m starting to worry that your mind’s been affected by the exhaustion.”

“You’re starting to worry? About me?”

I shake my head. “Gideon, can you do a scan on his brain or something? The repeating thing is starting to get on my nerves.”

“You know what, Snart? Fine. You win. Let’s go on a vacation to visit Kara because that’s apparently something people do with their villains.”

“You’re the one who has me listed as an ally, Scarlet.”

“Only because I must’ve forgotten for a moment what a pain in my ass you are!”

I smile. “And here I am to remind you.”

“Hooray.”

I’m just nice enough to not mention that he already looks a hell of a lot happier than when he thought he was only hallucinating me. But I’m definitely not nice enough to not already be preparing a list of questions for interrogating this Kara on whether she deserves to be called Barry’s friend when she left him in this state. If I even had an inkling that this was happening, then I would’ve taken that timeship and… Well, it doesn’t matter now.

“I’m going to go pack,” I say. “If you even think about getting out of that bed before Gideon gives you the all clear, I’ll be icing you to it.”

“Your bedside manner could use some work.”

“Two hours, fifteen minutes and forty-eight seconds, Scarlet.”

I hear him ask Gideon what I’m talking about, as I leave to hunt down some speedster energy bars. Someone’s got to keep the idiot from passing out again. Might as well be me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could I have written out the scenes with Lisa and Singh? Sure. But they would've dragged out this chapter, so I didn't.
> 
> Anyway, I'm really excited about this fic and the entire series. It's going to take ages for me to finish, but I think it'll be completely worth it. I haven't tried doing crossovers before (outside of the usual Arrowverse), so I'm hoping that I can pull this one off. I probably won't be able to maintain weekly updates (Tuesdays AEST) forever, but I'm going to try my best. If I get to the point where I can have biweekly updates, I absolutely will.


	3. Another Mistake

**BARRY**

I don’t get it. Snart being alive, him helping me, and the thief deciding taking me on a vacation after reading the Flashpoint incident file. None of it makes sense. What’s he get out of it? I want to say that this is all some elaborate plot to gain my trust only to betray me at a later time, but the surveillance footage Gideon showed me of everything from Snart arriving to me waking up says otherwise. But he could’ve been acting from the start. It’s not like the man isn’t hyperaware of cameras.

Still, I don’t see the point in it. Getting Wally’s trust instead, not that Joe would allow it, would be more beneficial to Snart. The only other option I can think of is that Snart’s going to try convincing me to join his Rogues. But I get the feeling that it hasn’t even occurred to him to do that. Maybe I’m just being too trusting. Even after everything the world’s done to prove to me why I shouldn’t believe in the best of everyone, I can’t just turn it completely off. There’s still a tiny part of me that says Snart’s being genuine.

I wish that I could make it go away.

“You’re packing your laptop?” Snart asks. “You do realise what the point of a vacation is, don’t you?”

“To escape Julian’s rants about me sucking at my job,” I guess, packing my external hard drive backup of Gideon for good measure.

“Do I need to ice someone?”

“Please don’t. I’m not getting fired just because you want an opportunity to shoot at the meta-taskforce CSI.”

Snart frowns, probably just annoyed at not getting to terrorise someone. “Why aren’t you the meta specialist?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I can’t even remember Julian becoming my lab mate, or what it is that I apparently did to piss him off so much. That’s what I get for screwing over the timeline, I guess. Missing memories and another person who hates my guts.”

“Have you reported him to IA?”

How does Snart even know about…? Oh right. His dad: dirty former cop but still once a cop.

“He’s been trying to get me fired from day one,” I explain, packing my suit. “Apparently, running out to save people as the Flash is suspicious behaviour. I’m almost positive that Captain Singh _knows_ , but knowing Julian, he’d go above the Captain’s head, and it’s not like Singh can do anything without breaking plausible deniability. It’s fine. I’ve been dealing with colleagues hating my guts since I started. Nothing new except for the sharing my workspace part.”

“Why the hell do you stay there if the other badges don’t appreciate you?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not joining your Rogues just because they’re better at pretending to like me, Snart.”

“While you would be a valuable asset, I meant more along the lines of a proper lab. You’ve already got this one where you can geek out to your heart’s content.”

“Being a CSI helps people.”

“You fight crime as your night job too, Scarlet. You don’t have to stay in a place that doesn’t deserve you.”

I stop myself from laughing. He’s laying it on a little thick considering this is probably some act. I’m still not sure what Snart gets out of this. Maybe he’s just bored and finds it funny to pretend to actually give a damn about me or something. Hopefully, once he realises that I’m not buying it, he’ll go back to his usual snarky self. The longer this goes on, the harder it is to ignore that he’s lying.

“Whatever, Snart,” I say.

“Barry–”

“Are you packed? Because I’ve just got to close the lab up before I’m good to go.”

Something unreadable passes over Snart’s face before he rolls his eyes. “I packed while you were on bedrest.”

“Of course you did.”

“I told you when I left to pack,” he says, and yeah, I can remember him saying that now. “Gideon, are you sure that he’s good to travel?”

I frown at him going over my head, but ignore his conversation with _my_ AI in favour of speeding around the lab to make sure that everything’s closed up. Something shows up on the proximity scanners, but it turns out to only be a random cat. When I get back to the cortex, extrapolator in hand, Snart’s got a pinched look like he’s worried or something. He’s probably just realised that his act isn’t the best.

“Should you be using your speed yet?” he asks.

No, but I’d rather get this ‘vacation’ over and done with, so that Snart will go back to acting like his usual snarky self instead of this weird fake concerned version.

“I’m not going to collapse again, Snart,” I say, rather than asking him to drop the act already.

“You’re still pale.”

“I haven’t exactly been spending much time in the sun lately. I’ve been too busy.”

Snart frowns. I sling my bag over my shoulder and fiddle with the extrapolator so that I don’t have to figure out whether his frown is genuine or not. Small sparks dance between my fingers: the usual residual energy from tapping into the Speed Force so much recently. For a second, I swear that one of those sparks travels into the extrapolator, but when I hold the device up to the light, it seems unaffected. Snart picks up his own bag, his cold gun no doubt packed inside.

“How are we doing this then?” he asks.

I open the breach and slip the extrapolator into my pocket. “We just walk through.”

“That easy?” Snart asks. “No need to travel through at superspeed or anything?”

“Don’t worry, Snart. You don’t have to worry about having to be carried through.”

He smiles, and for a second I almost let myself think that he’s holding back a laugh. “Just checking, Scarlet.”

I don’t know what makes me do it. Maybe I need to make sure that he’s real, that he’s here, and that he’s definitely alive. Maybe I need to make sure that he’s not going to suddenly leave when I step through the breach. Maybe I need to make sure that his act, whatever it’s for, won’t just fall apart the moment I touch him. Whatever it is that makes me do it, Snart doesn’t seem the least bit surprised when I grab his hand before jumping through the breach. He looks even less surprised when I immediately let go of him the moment we’re on the other side.

The breach closes behind us, and my pocket burns. I grab the extrapolator out and wince at the fried device. Guess my static did affect it then. At least there are people on Kara’s Earth that’ll help me rebuild it. If not, I can always borrow hers to get back once this week is up.

“That normally happen?” Snart asks, looking at the extrapolator.

“Never happened before,” I say, slipping it back into my pocket. “Kara has one too though, so if it can’t be fixed, I’ll be able to get you home to your sister just fine.”

“Wasn’t worried that you wouldn’t.”

“Sure,” I mutter, finally looking around us. “This seems very forest-y.”

“Any forests near your friend’s place?”

“No, but we could’ve just ended up in a different area. I could text Kara, and she should be able to figure out where we are.”

“Let me guess, she’s another superhero.”

I wince. “She isn’t not a superhero.”

“Relax, Scarlet. I already figured that anyone you know from a different Earth would be one of your goody-two-shoes squad.”

Before I can argue that there isn’t a squad anymore, the sound of horses of all things makes me shut my mouth. Snart drags me to the ground and behind a bush without so much as a ‘get down’. Four people in obviously medieval clothes and bright red cloaks ride past the clearing. They’re too dirty and familiar with horse-riding to be part of some elaborate RP. In fact, I’m pretty sure that they really are knights on patrol. I turn to Snart, who seems to have reached that exact conclusion, and I pull out my phone.

No reception. 

“I take it from your expression that this isn’t your friend’s Earth,” Snart drawls, standing up and offering me a hand that I ignore.

“I don’t know,” I say because it should be Kara’s Earth. “It definitely isn’t the right time.”

“We didn’t time-travel, Scarlet.”

I scoff and put my phone away. “Then how would you explain the clothes those guys were wearing?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say I can, but that doesn’t mean we time-travelled. I’m pretty familiar with the feeling after being on the Waverider. Hard to forget that, even if I got used to it.”

If we didn’t travel through time then…

“This is a different Earth,” I realise. “We’ve ended up in a completely different universe, and with the extrapolator fried, we’re stuck here for who knows how long. Of course, I can’t go a day without making _another_ mistake.”

Snart slaps the back of my head.

I whirl on him. “What the hell?”

“Reflex,” he says, not looking the least bit apologetic. “Goes off whenever someone’s spouting bullshit.”

“Can you not go five minutes without–?”

“Can you not go five minutes without tripping over your own feet, _Mer_ lin?” another voice shouts.

Snart tugs me behind a tree right as a blonde knight and what looks to be his servant trudge into the clearing we arrived in.

“Maybe if I didn’t have to carry all of your hunting gear,” Merlin, and that’s a weird name to have in this time period, says.

“Shut up,” the knight says.

“I’m just saying–”

The knight slaps his hand over Merlin’s mouth, who makes loud noises in protest.

“If you shut up, I’ll remove my hand,” the knight says.

Merlin glares at him, but stops trying to speak. The knight drops his hand to his sword. Snart leans close to my ear, and I try not to react.

“Don’t even think about breaking cover,” he whispers.

I turn to argue, but his face is _right there_ , so I shut my mouth and look back at the clearing. I’m sure Snart’s smirking behind me. He probably loves that I’m stuck following his order. I’m half-tempted to just walk out there in spite of him, but it’s not like I have the best history of decision making lately. I’d somehow get us both killed, regardless of the advantage my speed and his gun give us. I messed up a simple trip through a breach after all.

“Whoever is here, I advise that you reveal yourself,” the knight says.

“I advise that you reveal yourself,” Merlin mimics. “Like they’re going to do that if you’re going to stab first and ask questions later.”

“I’m not going to be stabbing anyone that isn’t a threat, _Mer_ lin. Keep talking after I told you to shut up, and you’ll start being a threat to my patience.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. Then his eyes turn gold and everything slows down. I turn, the Speed Force instinctively rising up in me, and see that Snart’s frozen mid-wince. The knight is staring at the tree Snart and I are hidden behind, probably having just noticed us before Merlin did whatever he’s done to mess with time. Merlin’s not speeding up, like I can, but instead, I’m pretty sure that he’s somehow slowing everything else down.

I’ve fought a meta with a similar ability before, yet I can already tell that what the servant is doing is different. Chances are that Merlin’s name means that whatever it is that’s given him the power to do this is magic. And wouldn’t it be just my luck to land us in a place with the actual Merlin from the stories? I stay tapped into the Speed Force for long enough to catch the utter shock on the servant’s face before slowing to a normal speed, my hand grabbing Snart’s arm before I can consciously recognise the action.

Snart doesn’t question it or yank his arm free though. He doesn’t even seem to mind that I’ve pulled us out of cover. Instead, he gives me a once over, as if checking that I haven’t suddenly developed an injury, and follows my worried gaze towards Merlin. The glare of complete protectiveness Snart sends the servant has me rapidly blinking to dispel the illusion, but then Snart adjusts his stance just enough to be noticed and blocks me partially from Merlin’s line of sight. I can’t tell if I’m more annoyed at his belief that I need protecting, or shocked by the fact that Snart of all people is the first to act like this towards me since the Flashpoint incident came to light.

“Who are you?” the knight asks; well, demands really.

“What’s it to you?” Snart snaps back.

Merlin snorts. “Told you that you look more like a toad than a prince.”

The knight glares at him. “Really? In front of potential enemies now? Do the wonders of your insolence never cease?”

“It wouldn’t do to let you get a big head, now would it, _sire_ ,” Merlin teases. “Besides, they’re not enemies of Camelot. If anything, I think they might be a bit lost. Just look at what they’re wearing. Clearly, they’ve strayed a long way from home.”

“Tell me, _Mer_ lin. Which of us is the Crown Prince and which of us is the servant? I think you could use the reminder.”

‘Merlin. Camelot. Prince,’ Snart mouths silently.

“They’re Merlin and Arthur, aren’t they?” I whisper to him.

“Scarlet, never let it be said that geniuses are incapable of pointing out the obvious.”

I let go of his arm. “I already figured that he was Merlin. I just hadn’t figured out the other one.”

“He’s right that we’re lost,” Snart says, interrupting Merlin and Arthur’s argument. “We were on our way to visit a friend and must’ve taken a wrong turn. Next thing we know, we’re here, which is apparently Camelot.”

You can’t take a wrong turn through a stable breach like that. It’s impossible.

“What are your names, and where are you from?” Arthur asks.

Snart smirks, and I just know exactly what words are going to come out of his mouth. “This is my friend Bartholomew Allen,” he says, utterly predictable.

“And this is Leonard Snart,” I say. “We’re not actually friends.”

“I’m hurt, Barry,” Snart says.

I ignore him. “We’re from Central City. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Maybe not,” Arthur says. “But there are plenty of maps back in the castle. I’m sure that we’ll be able to help you find your way home.”

Merlin grins. “Look at you, learning to not be a complete prat.”

Arthur slaps the back of his head. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“Gwen’s going to be so proud of you,” Merlin says.

The prince blushes. “I’m merely acting as any Knight of Camelot should.”

“Most of the knights would only help nobles,” Merlin says, eyeing Snart and me. “I doubt they’re nobles, even if their clothes do seem rather fine.”

At least I’m not wearing my Flash suit. That would’ve been even more out of place than skinny jeans. Snart seems to think the same thing judging from the once over and smirk he gives me.

“Thank you,” I say. “For wanting to help us, but–”

“Barry doesn’t like imposing,” Snart interrupts, “but we’d be grateful for your help.”

“What are you doing?” I hiss at him.

“We’re not going to find the right tools in the middle of a forest, Scarlet,” he whispers back.

I bite my tongue instead of pointing out that the right tools to fix a device that creates inter-dimensional breaches don’t exactly exist in the middle of Camelot either. I do, however, glare at Snart instead. He merely raises an eyebrow sardonically. I scoff and turn back to _the_ Arthur and Merlin, the former of which is looking between us amused.

“Did the two of you need a moment?” he asks.

I’m pretty sure my face turns as red as my suit, even as I shake my head.

“Right then,” Arthur says, sounding like he doesn’t believe me. “Well, we’ve wasted enough daylight as it is with Merlin here scaring off anything worth hunting, so we might as well set up camp. Tomorrow, we’ll head back to Camelot, where the two of you will hopefully be able to regain your bearings.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to scare anything if you didn’t insist on hunting innocent creatures,” Merlin mutters, not minding his volume at all.

“Just get a fire started sometime before the sun sets, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur says, sitting against a nearby tree and laying his sword across his legs.

Merlin dumps the prince’s hunting gear onto the ground and gets started on building a campfire. I almost offer to help, but he seems to have it handled. That, and camping never really agreed with me any of the times I went with my parents or the Wests. Give me a sterile lab over a forest any day. At least there the worst I could do is be struck by lightning, sent into a coma, and become a superhero, who’ll one day have a nemesis who goes back in time to kill my mum. I guess it does sound pretty bad when I put it that way.

Snart sits in front of the tree we were hiding behind earlier and pats the ground next to him. I place my bag where he’s patting and sit on the other side of it. We might need to sit close for practicality, but I’m not going to be sitting that close to a man who’s actively trying to deceive me for some reason beyond me. The fact that he’s keeping it up despite us being stranded on another Earth only proves how far he’s willing to go for this act. But there’s always the chance he’s being genuine. No. I can’t get my hopes up. I won’t. That way when he inevitably realises that I’m not worth it, that I’m only going to get him into even bigger messes, and he leaves, it won’t hurt as much.

“How do you think we ended up here?” Snart asks quietly.

I stare at the fire that Merlin’s started cooking over. “The extrapolator malfunctioned. Some of the residual static I produce when using my speed got into it. That shouldn’t have made it bring us here, let alone fry it, but that’s the only difference I can account for right now.”

“I _was_ in a time explosion several hours ago,” Snart points out. “Could that have affected it?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

It’s not like I have the right equipment to scan for residual energy. I forgot to ask Gideon to do it after I woke up. She might’ve done it regardless, but I can’t pull out my laptop in front of anyone from this Earth. They’d probably call it sorcery, and considering that Merlin hasn’t been using magic in front of Arthur, I’m guessing that it isn’t allowed here.

“Well, if you’re already trying to blame yourself, you might as well spread it around a little,” Snart says. “The device has never done something like this before, right? So you can’t know for sure that it’s solely your fault, if it’s your fault at all.”

“If I’d handled my life better, you wouldn’t have decided to drag me onto a holiday.”

“Nobody could’ve handled your workload, Barry. The fact that you didn’t kill yourself through exhaustion is a miracle.”

But I almost did. If Snart hadn’t shown up… It doesn’t matter now. I won’t let it get that bad again. Even if that means having to cut down on the Flash’s bantering and any of Gideon’s nonessential programming. Making a couple of small sacrifices for the sake of the city is the least I can do after how much ruin I’ve brought it.

“I mean, sure, we’re on the wrong Earth,” Snart says, “but at least now I don’t have to worry about the Flash disappearing one day because he worked himself to death.”

“Yes, because it’d be a real tragedy if Captain Cold couldn’t fight the Flash anymore,” I snap. “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure that Kid Flash would be up to handling you. He might just throw you in prison straight away though.”

Snart shakes his head. “Completely missed the point, Barry.”

Before I can ask what exactly the point was then, Merlin announces that the stew is ready. I hadn’t even noticed that the sun is long set let alone that the food was almost finished. Merlin hands us our bowls slowly, as if he’s expecting us to suddenly attack him and Arthur. Apparently, even strangers instinctively know not to trust me. I mumble a thank you and start absentmindedly eating. Normally, I’d be starving by now, but lately, I haven’t been feeling hungry much. That’s not quite right. As a speedster, I’m pretty much always hungry. Guess I just got used to ignoring it in favour of more pressing matters. 

Maybe if I’d listened to my stomach, we wouldn’t be in this mess, but it’s too late now. And of course I had to drag someone else into it as well. Though Snart’s not exactly making me sympathetic considering this ridiculous caring act he’s got going on. My family and closest friends gave up on me as a lost cause, so why would one of my villains give a damn? There might still be a tiny part of me that wants to trust him, but I squash it down. I won’t get my hopes up. I can’t.

“Hand me your bowl,” Snart says.

He doesn’t wait for a response and just takes my half-finished dinner.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as he starts pouring the contents of his bowl into mine.

Snart looks at me like I’m asking the obvious. “Giving you half my portions,” he answers, as if there doesn’t need to be more explanation than that.

“Why?” 

“Because I’m used to living it rough, and you’re still recovering from minor malnutrition and hypoglycaemic shock. Clearly, you don’t feed yourself enough for your metabolism, so here’s me, making sure you don’t pass out from being an idiot again.”

“That’s,” I sputter. “You don’t have to look after me, Snart,” I hiss.

“Sorry, did it look like I was asking? My mistake.” Snart shoves my bowl at me. “Eat, Barry. I’m not dragging your scarlet-clad ass around after you pass out.”

I duck my head to hide how red my face is getting. “Thank you,” I mumble.

“Don’t mention it. Ever. Mick would laugh so hard that he’d fall down, and Lise would just judge me silently.”

Oh. Right. Because of me, Snart might not see his family again. Why can’t I go one month without ruining someone else’s life?

“Here,” Snart says, holding out one of my high calorie energy bars.

I take it and stare at him. “Why…?”

“I stocked up on them before we left, Scarlet.”

“Have you made it your mission in life to feed me or something?” I ask.

“Or something,” Snart mutters.

I don’t have it in me to question him. I just don’t. I’m sure Snart will be quick to realise how big of a mess I’ve dragged him into soon enough. There’s no point in arguing against his sudden kindness when it’s only temporary anyway. Besides, it’s just an act. It has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might’ve noticed that Barry’s a bit of an unreliable narrator on certain things, like why Len’s looking after him and how they ended up in Camelot. All I can say on that second matter for now is that there was more at play in the moment they stepped through the breach than any of the characters realise.


	4. Middle of Nowhere

**LEN**

I don’t bother trying to sleep. There’s no way in hell that I’d be able to let my guard down enough around two strangers in an unknown location. So I help keep watch. Barry passes out within five seconds of putting his head down ‘for a moment’. I’m not surprised at how deeply he sleeps considering how exhausted the speedster’s made himself lately. About time that he gets a chance to rest, even if this vacation didn’t pan out as expected. I’m sure that we’ll find a way back home eventually. I’ve got Barry ‘impossible things are my jam’ Allen on my side after all.

Arthur and Merlin switch turns at taking watch alongside me. Pretty sure they wouldn’t bother if we weren’t here, but I don’t mind their caution. Better that they’re showing their mistrust through this than outright hostility like a certain CSI. As strange as it is for Barry of all people to be prickly, I’m not that surprised by it. I’d be prickly as hell too if my family abandoned me. Well, more so than usual. I don’t need Barry to like me so that I can look out for him. It’d make the job easier, but I’m more than happy to deal with a pissed off speedster if it means that he’s an alive one.

The only thing keeping me from reaching out to check that he’s just sleeping and hasn’t fallen unconscious is his light snoring. That, and the watching eyes of Merlin who seems a lot more mistrusting now that his prince is sleeping. I resign myself to a stare off until he gestures closer to the fire, and I have to abandon my watch over Barry so that the sorcerer doesn’t turn me into a toad or something. I want to say that I’d be able to get the drop on Merlin first, but judging by how whatever trick he pulled earlier unnerved Barry, I doubt that I’d come out on top.

“Your friend has magic,” Merlin murmurs.

“Not magic,” I correct him. “Barry’s his own brand of impossible.”

“Magic or not, anything that resembles it means a one-way trip to the pyre.”

My fingers twitch to a cold gun that isn’t there. “You don’t mention Barry’s gift, and we won’t mention yours.”

It couldn’t be more obvious that his prince doesn’t have a clue about Merlin’s magic.

“How do I know that you’re not a threat to Camelot, to Arthur?”

“You don’t. But really, do you think that someone as conspicuous as us would bother? We’d be the first suspects. It’s the person you least expect, the person who isn’t even on your radar that you should watch out for. Barry and me? We didn’t even mean to end up here, so how could we already have a plan to deceive you?”

Merlin narrows his eyes. “A troll once tried to become next in line to the throne by marrying Uther. She wasn’t exactly hiding herself either once she knew that she had enchantments on her side.”

“Barry brings criminals to justice for a living. The last person you need to worry about is him. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to want to fight trolls. He’d get a kick out of it.”

“And you?”

I lean back and shrug. “I’m here to look out for him. I don’t plan on doing anything to hurt your kingdom or prince, but if either goes after Barry…”

“You’d protect him,” Merlin says.

“I owe him. Keeping him alive and well is the least I can do.”

“I get it.”

I think back to Merlin teasing Arthur about a ‘Gwen’, no doubt the future Queen Guinevere.

“No, you don’t,” I say, moving back to my spot against the tree before he can ask me to explain.

That would mean having to think about it more, and now really isn’t the time. I can practically feel the servant’s eyes tracking exactly how close I sit next to the speedster and the amount of times that I can’t help checking on him. But it’s easy to ignore Merlin. I’ve endured far more from my family than someone simply paying attention. The only reason Lisa even stopped shooting at me when I showed up at her apartment was because she preferred teasing me over how quickly I wanted to get back to Star Labs. Better not to think about it.

*

Barry wakes up, looks at me, and flops back down with a groan. “Was it too much for it all to be a dream?” he asks.

“You almost died, Scarlet. That makes it a nightmare.”

He snorts. “Right. Because people would’ve noticed.”

I wish I’d hunted down the former Team Flash before we went through that breach. At this point I couldn’t care less what their reasons were. They deserve to be iced for letting someone like Barry Allen get into this state.

“Are you alright, Leonard?” Arthur asks, breaking away from his quiet chat with his servant.

“Peachy,” I snap.

Barry shoots me a concerned look at that, which I ignore in favour of getting up.

“Merlin mentioned that you didn’t sleep,” Arthur says.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be slowing anyone down today,” I say.

At least my headache from being thrown out of the time stream is gone. A little missed sleep is nothing compared to that.

“Snart.”

I turn to the CSI. “Yes, Barry?”

He ducks his head. “Never mind.”

And the idiot’s blaming himself. Of course, he’s blaming himself. I resist the urge to ice him to the ground and explain _in detail_ all the reasons that him dying would be a nightmare for anyone with sense. Instead, I offer my hand, which Barry ignores again in favour of stumbling to his feet. I toss the still weakened speedster another energy bar.

“Don’t want to drag me?” Barry asks.

“It’d be easier to just throw you over my shoulder.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Do you really want to find out?”

Barry eats the energy bar.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, smirking at the annoyed glare he shoots me.

Arthur clears his throat. “If you two are done, I’d like to actually leave at some point today.”

“We haven’t even gotten started,” I point out, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “But by all means, your majesty, lead us to Camelot.”

“I’m starting to regret offering to help you,” the Prince says, as we start walking.

“He makes you do that,” Barry says. “The more he needs help, the worse he gets.” 

“Says you,” I retort, the image of him slumped over still burned into my brain.

“I didn’t ask for your help this time, Snart.”

“You thought I was dead. Doesn’t count.”

“Do you really think that I would’ve come to you even if you got back to Central earlier?”

You wouldn’t have had to. But I don’t say that. It’d reveal too much, and I’m not dumping that on Barry right now. Or ever.

“You’ve never hesitated to ask me for help in the past,” I say instead. “Even though everyone was telling you what a stupid ass idea that was.”

“Well, clearly I can’t trust my judgement. I certainly never could when y–”

“Enough!” Arthur shouts. “If you two don’t stop bickering like an old married couple, we’ll be leaving you behind.”

I decidedly do not look in Barry’s direction.

“We’re hardly slowing you down,” I say.

“Arthur likes to pretend that he likes silence during journeys,” Merlin says.

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Yes, sire?”

“Shut up.”

“Never, sire.”

“I hadn’t realised that you’d missed your fans so much,” Arthur says. “I’m sure that a day in the stocks when we get back to the castle will remedy that.”

“You know, Gwen doesn’t like it when I have to miss our daily gossip sessions because you’ve sent me to the stocks,” Merlin says.

Arthur scowls. “Stop trying to use Guinevere against me.” 

“Where would be the fun in that?”

“I’m sure that you wouldn’t like it if I used...”

“Yes?”

“How would you like it if I wrote to your mother about your blatant disrespect?” Arthur asks, abandoning the romantic interest route.

Interesting.

Either Merlin doesn’t have anyone that he’s interested in, which could easily be an option, or Arthur doesn’t know his servant as well as Merlin knows him.

“Arthur,” Merlin says slowly as if the Prince is particularly stupid. “Who do you think taught me to disrespect nobility?”

The prince sputters. “But Hunith was so nice when we last visited.”

“Because you’re in charge of my pay. You know, the same pay that I send her a percentage of every month? She wasn’t going to risk losing that. Mother’s pragmatic.”

“Does that mean your mother doesn’t like me?” Arthur asks, and Barry’s starting to look uncomfortable at the conversation.

I, on the other hand, am inwardly grinning at how much information these two are spilling that I might need to use against them later.

Merlin sighs. “She doesn’t dislike you. It’s not even you personally that she has a problem with. Ealdor doesn’t have the best history with nobles and royals, and then there are the stories Gaius tells her.”

“Should I be concerned? I feel that I should be concerned,” Arthur says.

“I might not mention the amount of times we come close to dying during certain incidents, and Gaius is always quick to remedy that.”

“Hunith is going to kill me for not looking after her son.”

“She hasn’t threatened to do that for years, not since Lancelot started writing to her at least.”

“He’s only been a knight for a few months. Do you mean to say that he was writing to her before he lived in Camelot?”

“Gwaine too. Honestly, I don’t understand why those two enjoy writing to my mother so much. Gwen’s at least understandable considering she’s actually met Mother, but–”

“Am I the only person in Camelot who hasn’t been writing to your mother?” Arthur asks.

“I’m almost positive that your father doesn’t write to her.”

Arthur seems relieved at that. “What do you mean that she used to threaten to kill me?” he asks, frowning.

Merlin abruptly turns to the nearest person, which happens to be Barry.

“Why do you keep calling Leonard by his family name?” Merlin asks.

“Because we’re not friends,” Barry says.

“Yes, Scarlet, you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“Scarlet?” Arthur repeats, apparently easy to distract.

“It’s a nickname,” I say, biting back an ‘obviously’.

“Based on what?” Arthur asks.

“The colour he was wearing when we first met.”

“How did you meet?” Merlin asks.

Barry opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. “Barry here ruined a plan that I’d been working on for months.”

“That’s how you’re going to tell it?” Barry questions. “Seriously?”

“It’s the truth.”

He scoffs. “Says the self-proclaimed liar.”

“I haven’t lied all day.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to believe me for it to be true, Barry.”

“I think we have different opinions on what is and isn’t the truth.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

I shrug. “You’re not completely wrong.”

He wasn’t this sceptical before I decided it’d be a good idea to try my hand at saving time after all.

“I’m confused,” I hear Arthur whisper to his servant.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Merlin whispers back.

I’m not sure where these two learned to whisper because they’re terrible at the quiet part.

“Are they married or not?” Arthur asks.

Barry chokes on nothing. Guess I’m not the only one who can hear them.

“Honestly, I don’t think they’ve even started courting yet,” Merlin whispers.

“Yet?” Barry questions loudly, his face scarlet.

“Who taught you to eavesdrop?” I ask him, turning to the gossipers next. “And who taught you two to whisper? How does this kingdom even have secrets if its prince and his servant are so incapable of talking quietly?”

While the three of them are busy being offended, I let out a sigh. We need a central location to work from and allies with standing in this place. I’m not throwing away a perfect solution to that just because two people in the Middle Ages are more perceptive of certain things than they have any right to be. It’s not like it matters anyway. Barry’s in a bad place, is incredibly oblivious, doesn’t trust me, and even if all of that weren’t the case, he deserves a hell of a lot better.

*

When we don’t stop walking at noon, I pass another energy bar to Barry and glare at him until he eats it.

“I haven’t even been using my powers,” he mutters.

“Fascinating. Do you really think that changes the fact that your body is still recovering?”

“You should change your name to Leonard Snark.”

“There’s only one thing I’d ever change my last name to, Barry. Something that I’ve heard people joke about since before I dropped out of school isn’t it.”

“Let me guess; it’s a cold-related pun.”

“It really isn’t.”

“Missed opportunity.”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

I shake my head. “Finish eating, Barry.”

“I’m thinking about legally changing my first name to Barry. I don’t know what my parents were thinking with the Bartholomew thing.”

“Maybe they knew you were going to name yourself something as ridiculous as the Flash and figured you’d be fine with a terrible name.”

He glances to our two guides who are arguing about whether tournaments are a threat to the security of Camelot or not.

“Would you prefer that I call myself the Scarlet Speedster?” Barry asks.

“That’s my name for you, and I don’t share.”

“You share your food just fine.”

“There’s a difference between making sure that you don’t pass out and holding proprietary rights on a name.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “You don’t–”

“I hold the rights to the names Scarlet Speedster, Captain Cold, and Heatwave. Gave Lisa the rights to Golden Glider for her birthday.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do you know how many people try naming stuff after villains in Central? I get a cut every time, and I can veto anything that I don’t want the names to be associated with.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s easy money.”

“Then shouldn’t you want me to go by Scarlet Speedster?” Barry asks.

“I don’t think you get it, Scarlet. Nobody except me is legally allowed to use that name. I’d sue anyone who tried.”

“If you’re so obsessed with my alter ego then why’d you even join the Legends?”

“I’m not obsessed with the Flash,” I say for the nine hundred and seventeenth time. “And if I’d known how long I would’ve been stuck on the Waverider, then I never would’ve gotten on that ship.”

“You could’ve left whenever you wanted to.”

“I don’t leave things undone, Barry.”

“Did you have to make that sound like a threat?”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything. Besides, it wasn’t a threat. I don’t have any reason to threaten you outside of making sure that you take better care of yourself.”

“Uh huh.”

“Tournaments are tradition, _Mer_ lin, and that’s final!”

“Well, your traditions are always ripe with assassins!”

I stare incredulously at the two so-called legends in front of us. They keep arguing with increasing volume and passion over whose fault it is that assassins show up in Camelot so often. If you take away the words, then I’m pretty sure that I’ve had the exact same argument with Mick over him leaving his loose matches on my heist plans. It quickly devolved into childish bickering that I wasn’t expecting to see mimicked by _the_ Arthur and Merlin. I force myself to stop gaping at the still arguing pair.

And then Barry laughs.

I almost get whiplash from how fast I turn to him. I’m pretty sure that I trip over nothing as well, but I can’t bring myself to care. Scarlet is laughing. It’s genuine and everything, not that self-derisive facsimile that he’s done before now. I’m also eighty percent sure that he’s laughing at me.

“Your face,” he manages to say, as his laughing turns into giggling because apparently Barry Allen is a giggler.

I’ve never been gladder that I don’t blush easily.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you that surprised since I stopped you from stealing the Kahndaq Dynasty Diamond,” Barry says, and okay, there’s only so much that I’ll let him get away with.

“You seem to be forgetting that I did get away with that diamond, Scarlet, even if there was a delay.”

“Is that what you’re calling me ruining your perfect record now?”

“The trade-off was worth it.”

“What? Getting to be the centre of attention and unleashing your inner drama king?”

“That’s just a bonus.”

Barry looks at me like he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.

“Oh, no,” Arthur says, stopping suddenly.

“Good _oh, no_ , or bad _oh, no_?” Merlin asks.

Arthur grimaces. “That depends.”

“On what?” I ask, if only to escape Barry’s searching look.

Merlin must see something in the Prince’s expression because he also says, “Oh, no.”

“We haven’t walked into a trap, have we?” Barry asks.

“You would know all about walking into traps, Scarlet.”

“We haven’t walked into a trap,” Arthur says, and that’s good, but then he keeps talking. “The trouble is, I don’t actually know where we are, or which way we need to go to reach the castle.”

“You have to be kidding me,” I mutter.

Of course, Arthur isn’t done yet. “There are no noticeable landmarks around, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take for us to reach the edge of the forest.”

“So what you’re really saying is that we’re in the middle of nowhere,” I drawl. “That’s just marvellous. Tell me, _Prince_ Arthur, how is it that you’ve managed to get lost in your own kingdom? If I were you, I’d know every inch of it, including any changes. Anything less is just lazy.”

Barry snorts. “We don’t all have your brilliant memory, _Leonard_.”

“Oh, I am very aware of how lacking your memory is, _Bartholomew._ You’ve managed to forget half the lessons I’ve taught you about running head first into danger after all. That doesn’t give blondie over here a reason to get lost in his own kingdom. That’s pathetic. It’d be like you or me getting lost in Central.”

“Central’s a little smaller than Camelot.”

“That’s no excuse.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“I prefer challenging.”

“Only because you don’t actually like winning all the time.”

“If you’re suggesting that I ever _let_ you win then–”

“I’d be completely right.”

I shut my mouth with a snap and then shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “Maybe I just wanted to give you enough confidence, so you’d finally start testing my skills.”

“Or maybe you enjoyed fighting me too much to give it up.”

He’s not wrong, and it wouldn’t be completely horrific to admit as much.

“You’re right,” I say.

Barry gapes. Ha. Even when admitting defeat, I still beat him.

“I’m what?”

“Right, Barry. Surely, someone’s told you that before.”

“Not recently.”

“That’s because your so-called friends are all idiots. We’ve been through this.”

“This isn’t an act,” he says, and before I can get into _that_ , the Prince of Getting Lost decides to interrupt.

“I’m not lost,” Arthur says, because that was absolutely essential to the conversation.

“Prove it,” I say, letting what Barry said go for now.

I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to revisit it while we’re lost in Camelot of all places.

“How am I supposed to prove it?” Arthur asks.

“Take us to the nearest town,” I say. “Or village. Whatever they’re called here.”

He turns to his servant. “Merlin, take us to the nearest village.”

Merlin crosses his arms. “It’s your kingdom.”

“ _My_ kingdom? You’ve lived in it for years.”

“And you’ve lived here all your life. Doesn’t that make you the expert, _my lord_?”

I point to Merlin. “I like this one.”

Barry finally snaps out of it. “You just like arguing.”

“That too.”

“Fine,” Arthur says. “I’ll lead us to the nearest village before sunset.”

*

Exactly two hours after sunset, we reach an almost silent village. Almost because I’ve been counting every single second out loud since the last rays of light left the sky. Barry gave up on trying to stop me fifteen minutes and forty-one seconds in. Merlin joined in after one hour, thirty-six minutes and eight seconds. Arthur’s been practically vibrating with fury the entire time, but hasn’t said a word against the counting. He probably doesn’t want to invite the obvious commentary on his lack of navigation skills.

I stop counting and don’t bother getting rid of my smirk.

“How has nobody run you through with a sword before?” Arthur asks.

“Swords aren’t really a thing in Central,” I say. “But I was stabbed a few times when I was a kid. Learned pretty quickly who I could get away with pissing off after that.”

Barry makes a wounded noise.

I can’t help rolling my eyes at the concern. “You’re just as bad as I am when it comes to goading people, Barry.”

“You were just a kid.”

“I was never _just a kid_. Didn’t have that luxury.”

“You know what I mean.”

I sigh. “Mick took me under his wing after the second time. He kept me from getting in over my head. Things could’ve gone worse, but they didn’t. No point in worrying about it now.”

“Look at that, Arthur, not everyone’s asleep yet,” Merlin says, pointing to a couple of villagers who’ve wandered nearby, no doubt drawn to the noise.

The Prince cuffs the back of Merlin’s head and marches towards the villagers, his servant trailing behind him. Barry goes to follow, but I stop him with a sharp glare.

“Okay,” I say once dumb and dumber are talking with the villagers. “What did you mean back there?”

Judging from the way Barry’s eyes widen, he knows exactly what I’m referring to, but he still asks, “What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t an act,” I quote. “Now, I’d like to think that you were somehow under the impression that we weren’t lost in the actual Camelot, but I think we both know that you’re smarter than that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit.”

Barry clenches his jaw in a way that says he’s about to put his Flash voice on, so I flick his forehead. He stumbles back and stares at me.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“Trying to go all Scarlet Speedster on me.”

“I _am_ the Flash. I’m not going to just stop being me because we’re in a different universe.”

That I manage to not roll my eyes proves just how much I am trying to not start an argument here.

“You thought that I was acting,” I say bluntly. “Given our history, that’s understandable.”

“But you’ve changed since then, so I should just trust you completely now?”

“But we’re trapped in a different universe with no clear timeline on when we’ll be able to get home, and although I would absolutely play the long game on a job, I’d never do that if I didn’t at least have a good understanding on how long it would last for. Also, there’s that small thing called you saved my little sister, taking you off my potential hits list for life.”

“I wasn’t the one who–”

“Barry, you did more for me during that situation than I deserved. You probably did more for me than you would a random civilian too. So yeah, I happen to care about you enough to step in when no one else would. You’re a decent person, and you deserve better. Besides, Captain Cold wouldn’t exist without the Flash, meaning I’ve got a vested interest in keeping you alive.”

“And if I stopped being the Flash?” he asks.

“I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon, but if it does, then I don’t see why I can’t make sure Barry Allen is okay too. He’s alright for a badge.”

“Alright? Thanks for that, I guess.”

I shrug. “You wouldn’t believe me if I called you anything better.”

“Try the truth.”

“You won’t believe me.”

Barry crosses his arms. “You can’t know that,” he says.

“Fine, then. If I knew there was a risk of being trapped on the wrong Earth with you when we went through that breach, I would’ve gone with you anyway,” I say.

“We might be stuck in Camelot forever.”

“I know.”

“What if creating Flashpoint killed your sister?” he asks.

I consider it for a moment. “I’d steal the Waverider and save her.”

“You’d risk breaking time.”

“So?”

“I’d have to stop you.”

“But you wouldn’t.”

“No. Not if it was my fault. The Legends then.”

I smirk. “They would try.”

“I still don’t get it,” Barry says.

“Do you think I’m lying?”

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t really matter if you understand why I’m not, does it?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to argue that, but then Merlin comes back.

“The prat’s gotten us two rooms at the local tavern for the night. We should be able to figure out the way back to the castle from here come daylight.”

“I want a map,” I say, and it isn’t a suggestion.

“Normally, I’d be able to direct us just fine without one,” Merlin says. “But my magic’s been acting off all day. I think it wants us to either meet someone or end up somewhere first.”

“Does your magic normally do this?” Barry asks.

Merlin shrugs. “No, but it does unexpected things all the time, so I’ve learned to listen to it.”

“Any chance that it’s interfering with Arthur’s navigation skills?” I ask, if only because I’d feel bad if the Prince normally could know exactly where he was in his kingdom.

“Considering that he has an almost perfect sense of direction within Camelot so long as magic isn’t somehow involved…”

“The counting was too much then,” I say.

“I could’ve told you that,” Barry says. “Oh, wait. I did tell you that. Over and over again.”

“I promise that I’ll listen better next time then,” I say.

Barry frowns. “I think you actually mean that.”

“I said I’d listen, not obey your every instruction,” I point out. “Listening isn’t hard.”

“Tell that to my old team.”

He walks off to join Arthur before I can get him to elaborate. One day, I’ll find out every single transgression his family and former friends committed, and I’ll make them pay double for each one. Being stuck in Camelot just means that I’ll have more time to help Barry heal in the meantime. Did I want to end up here? Absolutely not. But I’m more than willing to take full advantage of it. I’m sure Lisa will understand the delay. If not, then I guess I’ll have to find a crown that would suit her as payment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with having two argumentative pairs who absolutely have to have the last word is that it takes them forever to do anything, which is how they got lost in the first place, not that any of them would admit it. Merlin’s magic only helped that happen a little.


	5. Real Family

**BARRY**

This is weird. Not the wrong Earth, literal Camelot, and meeting Arthur and Merlin parts. Those are definitely weird, but they’re a regular kind of weird. They’re the kind of weird that I signed up for when I became the Flash. Sort of. Okay, not really, but they’re a manageable weird. And that’s a lot different from getting used to someone being this outright worried about my wellbeing after I disappointed everyone back home for the last time. I honestly don’t know if it’s more or less weird that the person in question is Leonard Snart. I’m convinced now that he hasn’t been acting this entire time, which is actually more concerning.

I don’t know how to handle a Snart who cares. I’m not really sure that I remember how to handle anyone who cares. And I know that it hasn’t been _that_ long, but I guess that I just got used to dealing with it. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure that I haven’t had someone remind me to eat this often before. The old Team Flash just expected me to handle my increased metabolism after the first round of passing out unexpectedly. I don’t think Joe or Iris ever really understood how much more I was meant to eat, so it’s not like I had them nagging.

Who would’ve thought that Captain Cold would be a nagger?

Okay, so he mostly just hands me food and expects me to eat it, but I’m pretty sure that if I tried questioning or arguing it again, he’d start flat out nagging. In his own way. Which usually involves threats. Right now, he doesn’t seem like he’ll start threatening to drag or carry me if I pass out, but that’s probably because I just finished eating the energy bar without hesitating. I’m not sure why he gets to bring up me passing out so much considering how much arguing it took to get him to go to sleep last night. You wouldn’t think that the man hadn’t slept since before he was in a time explosion from how long he kept up his argument for.

“Why didn’t your family stick around?” Snart asks suddenly, still lying on top of his covers.

I cross my legs and absentmindedly fiddle with the damaged extrapolator. “Do we have to do this now?”

“We have time before Arthur’s finished getting to know the locals.”

“Can’t you fill that time by boasting about everything you stole throughout history?”

“I could,” Snart says. “You don’t have to answer the question, Barry.”

It’d be a lot easier to brush him off if he weren’t being so weirdly considerate.

I sigh and put the extrapolator aside. “Iris is angry that I can’t remember her wedding. Joe is angry because me trying to save my mum apparently translates into him not being a good enough father figure. And Eddie knows better than to get on the bad side of two angry Wests.”

“And your foster brother? Kid Flash?” Snart asks.

I don’t bother asking how he knows that.

“Wally’s in a difficult position. If I hadn’t created Flashpoint, he wouldn’t have gotten his powers, but he doesn’t trust me to mentor him after I did so much damage to the timeline. Well, he didn’t want to listen to someone lecturing him who’s already messed up so many times. Joe didn’t like the idea of me encouraging his real son to abuse his powers either, which didn’t exactly help.”

“I know that I’ve never been the Detective’s biggest fan and vice versa, but believe me when I say that I’ve never wanted to shoot him as much as I do right now. He doesn’t deserve to have you as family.”

“It’s not like I’ve been a perfect son, Snart.”

The thief sits up and looks me in the eye. “You don’t have to be perfect to deserve better, Barry.”

“I did irreparable damage to the timeline.”

“You still deserve better.”

I look away. “Maybe.”

Snart sighs. “I’ll take the improvement.”

The door slams open. Merlin doesn’t look the least bit sorry about making me jump.

“Have you heard of knocking?” Snart asks.

“He really hasn’t,” Arthur says from behind Merlin.

The servant rolls his eyes. “Time to go.”

“What about breakfast?” I ask.

“We’ll eat on the road,” Arthur says before dragging Merlin away with a, “Come on, _Mer_ lin.”

“At least there’ll be a road to follow this time,” I say, slipping the extrapolator into my bag and frowning at the laptop inside.

I’ll see what Gideon makes of our situation once we reach the castle. Hopefully, we’ll have a little more privacy there.

*

For about five minutes of walking and eating bread rolls, I can properly appreciate how utterly quiet it is here. I’ve never really thought of Central as a loud place. It’s a city, so of course there’s going to be some level of background noise. I spent every night that I could on patrol as the Flash, so I’m even more attuned to the sirens, the squealing tires, and the calls for help. But here, here it’s just the birds and the occasional distant sound of hooves. Until Arthur finishes his breakfast at least.

“Do you two really not have any clothes that don’t look so odd?” he asks.

I look down at my Star Labs sweatshirt and jeans. “This is pretty normal back home.”

“Yes, but what is this STAR Laboratories?”

“I’m a scientist. I work there, and technically live there too, but that’s beside the point,” I say.

Snart looks like he really wants to bring up the ‘living there’ part, so I’m glad that Merlin talks before he can.

“Leonard said you brought criminals to justice for a living.”

I shrug. “That’s my daytime job, sure. But I also use science to do that, so being a scientist is part of both my jobs.”

Snart coughs, and it sounds a lot like he mutters something like ‘more like half’, which isn’t entirely wrong.

“How do you use _science_ to bring criminals to justice?” Arthur asks. “Isn’t it just something that physicians specialise in?”

Okay, never thought that I’d have to explain forensics to a medieval prince.

“When you touch something, you leave behind your fingerprints, trace amounts of your skin, strands of hair, and sometimes blood. I can analyse the evidence of a crime scene and determine who the perpetrator was based on these things among others. We have records of every convicted criminal, and I can compare the evidence against these records. If they are a first time offender, then usually one of my colleagues will have them as one of their suspects, and I can figure out which of their suspects was present at the scene of the crime by recording those identifying markers.”

“That sounds like magic,” Arthur says, which is exactly what I was hoping against.

Snart tenses, like he’s getting ready to fight the Prince if he has to.

I just sigh. “Are you saying that because you don’t understand, or because you’ve seen evidence of magic being able to do the same thing?”

Arthur doesn’t seem to have an answer to that. Guess that means it’s the first option then. At least Snart relaxes a little. I’m still not used to him being so protective. I don’t know if I ever will be. It feels weird to have anyone want to look out for me after I practically broke time just because I can’t handle grief well. Maybe Arthur’s right to be so wary of me. I might not have the magic he’s weirdly opposed to, but I could still be a threat to his kingdom. Especially if I don’t try to be one.

“You’re living in Star Labs?” Snart says, as Merlin and Arthur walk ahead a bit.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I assure him because apparently, I’m in the business of reassuring Captain Cold now.

“It sounds like West kicked you out.”

“I’m an adult. I kicked myself out.”

“Because that is so much better.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s more convenient to live at the labs. Three out of four of my jobs are based there. There are plenty of spare labs that I chose from to convert into a bedroom. It’s not like I’m homeless or anything. I own the building, I have all the things that I’d need in an apartment already there, and I’ve got plenty of privacy.”

“Because your team abandoned you.”

“Yes!” I snap. “Because they all left. Thank you so much for constantly bringing it up. I don’t know how I could go a single day without you here to remind me. Oh, wait. I was doing just fine remembering that little fact on my own.”

“Barry–”

“I know that I’m not handling it perfectly, Snart, but that doesn’t mean I need you drawing attention to it every five seconds just because… Actually, why are you so stuck on the Team Flash breakup? It’s like we were your favourite band or something.”

Snart scowls. “Maybe it’s because I can’t understand why they would leave you. If I were them, I–”

“But you’re not them. Criminal, liar, thief, and definitely not the hero type. Remember?”

“How could I forget?” Snart drawls, sounding like he’s a moment away from pulling his cold gun on me.

I don’t know why that only makes me feel worse instead of the normal I was hoping we could go back to. Normal I know what to do with.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask him before I can stop myself. “I’m sorry that I don’t understand why you seem so pissed off on my behalf? I’m sorry that I still feel guilty over what I did to drive them off in the first place? I’m sorry that I can’t be whoever the hell it is that you want me to be?”

Snart sighs. “I never said that I wanted you to change, Scarlet.”

“Why not? I’m a human disaster as it is. Everyone else seems to realise that.”

“Only because they’re blind idiots.”

I run my hands through my hair instead of throwing them into the air. “I don’t understand why you keep saying that.”

“Have you considered that it’s just because I give a damn about what happens to you?”

“ _Why_?”

“I’ve already told you,” he says. “I’m not above repeating myself, but I doubt it’ll get the message through any clearer. I don’t blame you for not believing me considering all the shit me and others have put you through.”

“I do believe you,” I say. “I just don’t understand it.”

“Give it time and you will.”

I stare past Arthur and Merlin. “Seems like we’re going to have a bunch of that.”

Snart swats my shoulder. “Quit blaming yourself, Scarlet. Your guilt complex is bad enough as it is.”

“I’m a superhero. Guilt complexes are part of the job description.”

“Give me an hour once we’re home, and I’ll rewrite it.”

“You need an hour?”

“I like being thorough.”

And that smirk is normal enough that I calm down.

“We’re in Camelot,” I say because we haven’t really talked about it yet.

I’m sure that Snart has some sort of plan already ready. He just hasn’t decided to share, which is pretty understandable given how much I tend to ruin his plans.

“You only just noticed?” Snart asks.

“No, but we’re in the actual Camelot. This is pretty weird even on my scale of weird things.”

“You said there were infinite universes, right? Why’s it so surprising that this one of them?”

I stare at him. “You were actually paying attention?”

“Obviously.”

I want to ask ‘why?’ again, but I’m pretty sure that Snart would hit me again for it. I’ll get used to it eventually. Hopefully, I don’t give him reason to change his mind before that. Maybe Snart’s only sticking by me because he doesn’t want to give up a potential ally in an unknown place. Or maybe he thinks that someone would bother looking for where I ended up. I wish that I could shove these doubts away, but it doesn’t work that way.

“I don’t expect a rescue,” I say, if only because I need to be sure. “I’d honestly be surprised if anyone noticed that I was gone within the first week. After that, Captain Singh would probably realise when I don’t come back from leave, and maybe he’d mention it to Joe or Eddie, but I think he’d just be glad to finally have a clear reason to fire me.”

“We might still get back within the week,” Snart says.

I shake my head. “Even if we got to the castle by the end of the day, it’s going to take me ages to fix the extrapolator without the right tools. I’ll need Gideon’s help in figuring out exactly where we are relative to our universe, and I doubt my laptop has enough charge for her to run longer than an hour at most.”

“I’m guessing you can’t charge things with all that static electricity you produce.”

“Not without something built to capture it.”

“And finding the right materials here…”

“I wouldn’t have enough even if I dismantled your cold gun.”

Snart clutches his bag protectively. “Not an option.”

“Figured you would say that. Look, I won’t have a timeframe until we get a chance to sit down and go through what both of us brought. There’s bound to be a market near the castle. I’ll have to check what kind of materials it has. Of course, that leaves the problem of money–”

“Thief.”

“Or we could find something worth trading,” I say, ignoring him.

“One of the best thieves in our universe.”

“They probably have a barter system here that we can work with.”

“If you stopped being a badge for one moment–”

“They cut off hands for stealing in the Middle Ages, Snart. I don’t care if you’re the best thief in the Multiverse. I’m not risking that.”

He frowns at his hands. “Good point.”

“Yeah, I make those on occasion.”

“More often than I’d like,” Snart says giving me a weird look.

I ignore it. It’s hard enough to acknowledge a Snart that cares about my wellbeing. Deciphering weird looks is too much for me to handle right now.

*

It’s not until around midday that something happens, that something being a scrawny kid with a mop of dark hair stumbling out of the trees and staring at Merlin and Arthur as if they’re the answer to all of his life problems. Snart shifts in front of me, _again_ , but this time he at least lets me nudge him to the side. Probably because there’s no way a kid could be any sort of threat. Merlin seems to recognise the kid, but Arthur doesn’t.

“Mordred?” Merlin says.

The kid, Mordred, perks up, completely ignoring the blood pouring down his face from a cut on his cheek. I’m kneeling down with a fresh tissue in hand before I can process the action.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Mordred blinks at me and tilts his head to side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re bleeding,” Snart says, tapping his own cheek where the cut is.

“Oh. I hadn’t noticed,” Mordred says.

I hold up the tissue. “Do you mind if I take care of it?”

Mordred looks between me and Merlin. “Okay,” he says.

I bite back a frown and clean the blood off his face. The cut isn’t bleeding, thankfully. It seems like a scratch from a stray branch actually.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Thirteen summers,” Mordred says.

“Where are your guardians?” I ask.

The kid, because he’s barely a teenager, shrugs. “Our lord has turned away from me three times. The elders declared that a bad omen and sent me away.”

Merlin makes a strangled noise. I look between him and Mordred. It’s obvious from the way that the man can’t quite look at Mordred that he is feeling guilty for some reason. Somehow I doubt that it’s because he’s one of the elders, leaving only one option. I glance over at Snart who, judging from the glare he sends Merlin, has figured out the same thing. Mordred shifts like he’s ready to run away at any moment. I give him the smile I reserve for frightened kids who come into the precinct wondering where their parents are.

“Who was your lord?” Arthur asks. “Perhaps I could speak with him and settle the matter.”

Merlin grimaces. I share a frown with Snart.

“Emrys is kind, your majesty,” Mordred says, hanging his head. “I am sure that whatever I did to displease him must’ve been terrible.”

“You don’t even know that you did wrong?” I ask, and when the actual child shrugs, I have to force back a wave of anger so that the lightning won’t show in my eyes. “And your family sent you out alone anyway?”

“My presence would’ve brought ruin to them.”

_“I can’t do this anymore.”_

_“Cisco, please.”_

_“My brother’s dead because of you, Barry! I’m not sticking around to see what else your selfish choices can take from me.”_

_“I’m leaving too.”_

_“Cait? Caitlin, not you.”_

_She shakes her head. “I’ve already worked with one man who thought himself above asking before making decisions that affect us all. I won’t do it again.”_

_“But I tried to fix it. I tried.”_

_Cisco scoffs. “Maybe you should stop trying to be a hero then. You’d save more lives.”_

A hand grips my shoulder, snapping me out of my memories. I look up to see Snart, his expression soft even if the rest of him is rigid.

“Real family don’t abandon each other, no matter the reason.” Snart says. “They stick around like a bad cold, constantly getting into your business, whether you want them there or not. And they always pull through when you need them most. If they can’t even manage that, then they’re not family.”

I’m pretty sure he’s talking to me as well as Mordred, but I still shrug away from his hand. Unlike Mordred, I’m an adult, and I know exactly what I did wrong. They were right to get away from me while they still could.

Mordred stares up at Snart with a faint smile. “Who are you?”

“I’m Len, and this is Barry. We’re not from around here and are a little lost, so the Prince and Merlin have offered to help us find our way home.”

“You’re going to Camelot?” Mordred asks.

Snart, who apparently goes by Len sometimes, nods. “We’ll be sticking around for a while too. Our journey home isn’t exactly going to be an easy one.”

“Can I come with you?”

Merlin makes another strangled noise, but after the combined glares of the Flash and Captain Cold he backs off. 

Snart turns instead to Arthur. “Is it alright if the kid stays with us until we find some proper guardians to look after him?”

The Prince nods. “There are some spare adjoined rooms in the castle. They’re small, but they should offer some degree of protection should this Emrys attempt to ostracise Mordred again.”

I stand up and almost question his generosity, but I stop myself.

“Thank you,” I say instead. “That’s very kind of you.”

Snart gives me a look like he knows exactly what I wanted to say. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about one of my villains knowing me that well. Not that he’s technically a villain anymore after his time with the Legends. And even if Snart really thinks of himself as one, he’s doing a pretty terrible job of being a villain lately. He’s making a habit of that.

Arthur clears his throat. “Right, perhaps now we’ll make it back to the castle without interruption.”

“You mean getting lost,” Merlin says, positioning himself between the kid and the Prince.

Mordred practically attaches himself to Snart’s other side, all while shooting triumphant looks in Merlin’s direction. The way those two look at each other kind of reminds me of two people having a silent conversation. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had telepathy or something similar. Merlin does have magic after all. Who knows how much that might encompass?

“No, _Mer_ lin. I mean without you getting distracted by unicorns or something equally ridiculous.”

“You know the last time you mocked me on unicorns, you brought famine onto Camelot.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m occasionally right.”

“It happens so rarely that–”

“It does not happen rarely, you prat. Maybe if you hadn’t been knocked around the head so many times, you wouldn’t be blind to what’s right in front of you.”

Merlin doesn’t look back at Mordred, but from the way he twitches, it seems like he wants to. Snart seems to notice the same thing from the way he shifts slightly to be walking between Merlin and Mordred. The kid either doesn’t notice or is actively ignoring the man who’s most probably Emrys. For now, Merlin doesn’t seem to be a threat to Mordred. I’ll ask him what his problem is with the kid once we get to the castle. Until then, all I can do is watch and wait. I glance over at Snart who’s chatting quietly with Mordred. At least I’m not alone in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn’t intended to write any flashbacks, but that one popped up naturally, so I let it happen.


	6. Endless Hope

**LEN**

For a building with no indoor plumbing, Camelot is pretty nice to look at. It’s got nothing on Central, of course, but I can understand why Mordred and Barry stare at the castle when it comes into view. Arthur seems a little smug over their staring actually, something that I’m pretty sure Merlin both notices and is quietly teasing him about. Their relationship seems a little odd for servant and prince, but for all I know that’s the norm around here. Even if it isn’t, these two wouldn’t be legends on our Earth for nothing. They may be real people here, but that doesn’t change Merlin’s magic or Arthur accommodating two strangers if only because he thinks it’s the right thing to do.

I have a feeling that the Prince and Barry are going to get along great if we’re stuck here long enough for them to bond. I’m sure that as soon as Scarlet figures out a way home, we’ll be leaving, but I don’t see the need to rush. Maybe the citizens of Central City will learn to appreciate everything both Barry Allen and the Flash does for them in the time it takes for us to get home. If something truly bad comes up, I trust the Rogues to handle it. They won’t let their city be destroyed, even if that means temporarily getting closer to anti-hero territory instead of full villain.

Merlin seems to wave at every second person in the outer parts of the citadel, a place that Arthur referred to as the Lower Town. Mordred draws closer to my side each time we pass a guard or knight, and Barry moves to the kid’s other side, blocking him from the scrutinising gazes of those going about their day. No doubt, it’s Barry and me drawing a lot of eyes, but I doubt that Mordred realises that. Hopefully, Arthur dismissing the guards who offer to escort our group to the castle will lower the amount of suspicion directed our way. Or they might all think that we’ve enchanted their Prince, in which case, things might get a little dicey very soon.

It doesn’t take long for us to reach the castle itself. I absentmindedly note the weak spots in the security and file them away for later. You never know when you might need to exploit a building’s weaknesses. After all, improvising only works when you have as much information as possible about the situation, the people involved, and the lay of the land. The moment that this lot decide that either Barry or I are a threat, we’ll be out of here. I glance at the kid plastered to my side. We’ll probably be taking Mordred with us. It shouldn’t take too long to find him an appropriate set of guardians outside of Camelot.

Arthur pauses in front of the castle steps. “Merlin, take them to Geoffrey, and see that an appropriate set of rooms are provided to them when you’re done. I need to inform my father of our new guests.”

I wait until the Prince leaves hearing range before speaking. “Shouldn’t he be asking the King?”

Merlin, to his credit, only winces a little. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been carefully watching his reaction.

“The King trusts Arthur’s judgement,” he lies, obvious from the way he won’t meet any of our eyes.

Interesting.

Merlin doesn’t seem worried that Arthur’s decision will be vetoed and/or get him reprimanded, which most probably means that it doesn’t matter whether the King trusts his son’s judgement or not. Guess that means that Arthur is the one really in charge of Camelot. Good thing that he wants to help us, or getting home would be a little more difficult.

I turn to Barry to see if he’s reached the same conclusion, but the speedster is too busy gawking at the castle we’re walking through to notice me looking at him. I’d like to think that he’s properly assessing his surroundings, but even I don’t have that much hope in Barry Allen. A tug on my hand draws my eyes down to the kid, who seems to be trying to bore a hole in the back of our guide’s head.

“Ease off the glare a little,” I whisper.

Mordred whips his head up to look at me, biting his lip in that typical ‘but I wasn’t doing anything wrong’ expression, complete with slightly tearful eyes. Unluckily for him, Lisa used to pull the exact same shit on me all the time.

“If you glare at the people offering us a place to stay, then we’ll end up with no roof over our heads whatsoever,” I tell him.

Wish that was the first time I ever said that, but changing the past isn’t an option.

“Unless they’re morally obligated to help you because they arrested your dad and you’re friends with their daughter,” Barry says, not helping.

Merlin chokes on air.

“Did you get Mordred’s dad arrested?” Barry asks him, apparently not pulling any punches either.

“No,” Merlin says, turning around and waiting for a guard to pass before continuing. “But Uther, the King, did. Mordred made friends with his daughter too. Morgana isn’t around anymore after she helped an immortal army attack the castle on two different occasions though.”

Mordred deflates at hearing that. “I hoped that the stories were wrong and that she had not become Emrys’s enemy.”

“Stop calling me that,” Merlin hisses, making Barry and me shift closer to the kid and glare at the confirmed Emrys. “In fact, don’t mention that name here at all. It’s bad enough that Arthur thinks there’s some neglectful lord called Emrys out there thanks to you. Do you have any idea what will happen if he hears you calling me that name or if he remembers that you’re the same druid boy he smuggled out of Camelot?”

“He will see that magic is not evil, lift the law against it, and we’ll be free?” Mordred guesses, sounding entirely too hopeful.

“It’s not that simple,” Merlin says, turning his back on us and continuing through the castle without another word.

Mordred, on the other hand, has the expression of a kid who’s decided that they’ll convince an adult that the Tooth Fairy is real if it’s the last thing they do. Never mind that Mordred’s thirteen and getting too old for that kind of optimism. Then again, Barry was twenty-five when we met, and he had way too much hope for the kind of life he has. I wonder what it’ll take to get some of that boundless optimism back or if he’s lost it for good. As annoying as it was sometimes, I hope that isn’t case.

Merlin doesn’t lead us to whoever Geoffrey is, most probably because the sorcerer has figured that Central City won’t appear on any of Camelot’s maps. Instead, he leads us to a set of two connected rooms, both around the size of the bedrooms on the Waverider. The room we enter has a double bed, and the attached room has a single. I say nothing about the obvious assumption, or the likelihood that this is because Merlin doesn’t particularly like us, and I start checking the rooms for any secret entrances or medieval spyholes. Barry takes one look at the double bed, sighs, and drops his bag onto it.

Mordred beams at Merlin. “Thank you, Em– Merlin.”

“Thank Arthur,” he says before storming out while muttering about finding Lancelot.

I make a note that at least one of the Knights of the Round Table are here as well and continue checking out the two rooms. Mordred claims his bed by throwing himself down on it face first and promptly falling asleep. Guess the kid was tired after spending who knows how long wandering around alone in that forest. Barry looks like he wants to do the same thing, but instead he catches the energy bar I throw him and sits against the wall separating our room from Mordred’s. I dump my bag on the bed, close the kid’s door, and sit down next to my favourite speedster.

“We’re living in Camelot,” Barry says, apparently still processing that.

“We are.”

The air shifts, and Barry appears in the middle of the room, his hair sticking up at all ends like he’s just run his hands through it a couple dozen times.

“How can you say that so calmly?” he asks. “Why aren’t you freaking out over this? I regularly break the sound barrier, and I’m freaking out over this.”

“I can tell,” I say, standing up and not at all bothered when the air shifts again and Barry appears in front of me, lighting still in his eyes.

“It’s going to be alright, you know?” I remind him, stretching my arms above my head. “We’ll figure out a way to get Gideon power and use that extrapolator of yours to get home.”

Barry stares at me in disbelief. “Since when was Leonard Snart full of endless hope?”

“First of all, call me Len. I can’t stand being called Leonard, and we’re a little past last names at this point, Scarlet. Second, I shouldn’t even be alive, but apparently, time liked you enough to spit me out into your lonely lab. Third, I’ve seen so many unbelievable things since I met you that I’ve learned to start planning for the impossible. If we’ve managed to get stuck here, then it should also be possible for us to get back. I doubt there’s such thing as a one way trip when you’ve got the Flash on your side. And I trust that Barry Allen will help me when I need him most. He’s made a habit of it.” 

Barry scoffs. “Prepare to be sorely disappointed then.”

“You haven’t disappointed me yet,” I point out. “Sure, that illegal prison of yours wasn’t your best decision, but I didn’t really believe you were good back then anyway, so it doesn’t count.”

“And now what? You’re president of the Scarlet Speedster fan club?”

“I wouldn’t call my Rogues a fan club. Even if they were, I left Lisa in charge when someone convinced me that joining a group of idiots on a time ship was a good idea.”

“Which almost got you killed,” Barry mumbles, looking depressed all over again.

“Please, I did that for Mick. Quit taking credit like I’m some project to turn a criminal good or some nonsense. I’ll have you know that I stole my fair share of priceless artefacts while being dragged through time by that asshole captain.”

Barry’s lips twitch into a smile like he can’t help himself. “I’m sure you were the bane of museums across all of time.”

“Cut the sarcasm, Scarlet. We both know it was true. Those try hard Legends, a ridiculous name really–”

“Says Captain Cold.”

“Those try hard Legends,” I repeat, “kept thinking they could get me to stop stealing by asking nicely. They didn’t even give me a worthwhile challenge. I couldn’t have been more bored.”

“Is that your way of saying that you missed me?” Barry asks.

“Take it however you will. I’m definitely not bored now though. Annoyed that I have to familiarise myself with the layout of a new city, one with a bloody castle of all things at its centre, and its security, sure. But that’s just part of the fun.”

“You’re not thinking of stealing anything from the King, are you?” Barry asks, half in his Flash voice, half concerned.

I smirk. “What do you think?”

“I’ll have to stop you.”

“Oh, I’m aware. Trail of lightning in the middle of a magic-fearing castle would be pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“And your cold gun won’t be?”

“It’ll definitely be a challenge.”

Barry shakes his head, but his smile gives him away.

“I missed you too, Len.”

I swallow back a sudden lump in my throat. He just misses another person to talk to.

“Don’t be so certain about the ‘too’, Scarlet,” I drawl. “I just happened to miss the challenge, nothing personal about it.”

Barry’s smile drops for a moment, but then he stares at me intently and a grin spreads across his face. “All that time on the Waverider made you a worse liar.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You missed me.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the blatant hope in the hero’s eyes has me looking away. “Maybe,” is all I say.

It’s enough to make him hug me. Hug me. I only happen to wrap my arms around him too because it couldn’t be more obvious that Scarlet is touch starved, and nobody deserves that let alone this frustrating badge.

“I’m stealing the King’s crown for this,” I mutter.

“Not if I stop you.”

“Sounds like fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's attitude towards Mordred from an outside perspective is pretty bad. But don't worry. Mordred gets to keep some of his innocence in this fic. 
> 
> I'm not sure if it's obvious, but this is set post-Season 3 for Merlin (show), and it'll end up covering (and changing) some of the events of Season 4. Trying to tag which season for which show was too annoying after I realised that you can't give a series tags like you could if bookmarking it.


	7. Adorable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait.

**BARRY**

Turns out, Captain Cold is a cuddler. I already knew that I was one too, but I wasn’t expecting to wake up trapped in Sn– _Len_ ’s grip. Or to see a giggling thirteen-year-old watching my failed escape from his bedroom door. This entire situation without context makes it seem like Len and I are married with an adopted kid instead of the reality of being former enemies and reluctant allies who just happen to be looking out for a kid until we can find him some guardians that won’t abandon him.

“Go back to sleep, Scarlet.”

I freeze, even as Len—and calling him that is still weird—tucks my head back under his chin.

“Why?” I somehow manage to ask.

“You’re warm.”

Mordred’s giggles get louder. I weigh the positives and negatives of revealing my speed to the teenager. Lying here is pretty comfortable… Yeah, no. I tap into the Speed Force and cheat my way out of Len’s grip, stopping only when I’m standing in the middle of the room, probably just as red as my suit. But at least I’m free now. Mordred’s staring at me with wide eyes. Len is blinking at the empty spot I was just in.

“I am awake,” he says slowly.

“Dream of me often?” I snark at him.

“Yes, actually. The real you is often worse at handling my plans. Case and point, revealing your powers to a teenager.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Mordred says. “I have magic too. And one day Arthur and Emrys will set our people free.”

“It’s not magic, but thank you anyway,” I say.

Len groans and rolls out of bed. “Anything else we need to know, kid? Little hard to protect you if we don’t know what we’re protecting you from.”

“If anyone sees the druid mark on my chest, I’ll be sentenced to death,” Mordred says cheerfully.

I share a look with Len over the kid’s nonchalance.

“We’re not going to let anyone hurt you,” I promise.

“Helps that we’re not attached to Camelot,” Len says. “It’s just a place to lay low for a while.”

“What if you find your way home?” Mordred asks.

Len takes one glance at me and sighs, no doubt figuring out what I’m going to say before I say it.

“If you wanted to come with us, then I’m sure we could find a place for you there,” I say anyway.

I happen to know a thing or two about feeling like I don’t belong in a universe. I’m hoping that it won’t come to that for Mordred, but it’d be better for him to know that the option is open.

“Really?” Mordred asks.

“Barry wouldn’t offer if he wasn’t willing to follow through,” Len says with a shrug. “It probably won’t come to that though. Not after we have a little _chat_ with Merlin.”

“No cold gun,” I say, my Flash voice breaking out.

Len smirks. “I don’t need a weapon to be threatening, Scarlet.”

“True.”

“You aren’t from this world, are you?” Mordred asks.

I step away from Len (when had I even moved closer to him?) and turn back to the magical kid. “What makes you think that?” I ask him.

Mordred tilts his head to the side and his eyes flicker between blue and gold. “You feel different.”

People from different Earths vibrate at different frequencies. I guess that his magic lets him detect that somehow. But would everyone on this Earth with magic be able to notice or is Mordred just especially powerful? Merlin seemed to know that we weren’t locals, and I don’t think that was just because of our clothes and my power. If he’s anything like the legends, then being powerful would be expected. I didn’t really pay attention to those kinds of stories when I was a kid though. My love of the impossible was a different kind than magic.

“Care to explain?” Len asks, turning to me like he trusts me to have the answer.

I do this time, but it’s odd to see natural trust directed my way.

“Every universe vibrates at a different frequency,” I say. “We’re not in any danger of staying on a different Earth for an extended period.”

Len nods. “If we were, you would’ve mentioned it before.”

And that’s that. Casual trust. It should be normal. It should be something I can just handle. It shouldn’t be something that makes me want to completely embarrass myself over by hugging him again. It’s bad enough that I made him uncomfortable last night. Even if he never showed it, I doubt anyone would want to touch me at all these days.

Len stalks across the room and flicks my nose. “Cut it out.” And then he turns to Mordred like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. “Yeah, we’re from another world, kid. Do us a favour and don’t go spreading it around.”

The teenager’s eyes go wide. “Is magic allowed there?”

“It’s not common,” I say, ignoring Len’s ‘wait, what?’, “but people with different abilities is becoming more and more accepted.”

“Since when did our Earth have magic?” Len asks.

“You’d have to ask the Arrow. He’s the one with a magic contact.”

“Oh, I’m going to be asking him something alright, but it won’t be that.”

“How does your sister deal with your protectiveness?” I ask before I can stop myself.

The thief stares at me blankly for a few seconds like he’s short-circuited or something; I may have been spending a little too much time with only an AI for company.

“She either guilts me into getting her something expensive, screams at me, hits me, shoots at me, or does a combination of all of the above,” Len says. “Nobody said Snarts were good at handling their emotions. Doesn’t help that she doesn’t have room to talk without ending up a hypocrite.”

Before I can ask what made him freeze, pun intended, someone knocks at our door. I slip into the Speed Force in a panic, scan the room for anything incriminating, and enter real time standing between Mordred and the door, which just happens to put me standing next to Len. The next second, Merlin opens the door and is immediately scolded by his companion, a kind-looking maid.

“Arthur might allow you to walk in whenever you please, but that doesn’t mean you should treat guests the same way,” she says.

“But Gwen.”

She ignores him and offers us a curtsey. “I’m Guinevere, and you can call me Gwen. Arthur’s told me that you’ll be staying at the castle for a few months.”

Months? It can’t take that long to get home. What could happen to Central in the meantime? Would they notice that I’m missing? I want to say of course, but I was so ready to leave my Earth soon anyway. Who’s to say that they’d need me while I’m gone? But Wally doesn’t deserve to deal with that much pressure in protecting the city. If Central even gets into much danger without me there to screw things up every week. Maybe it’d end up better with me gone. The city’s probably glad to–

Len brushes the back of his hand against mine, and I focus back on what Gwen’s saying.

“I can show you around the castle if you like,” she’s saying to Mordred, who’s ignoring Merlin’s glare in favour of grinning at Gwen. “It hasn’t changed much since you were last here, but you didn’t get a proper look then, which makes sense considering that we were hiding you from the guards, and you got an infection from your wound, and sneaking out in the middle of the night is not at all a good perspective on the castle no matter what stories Merlin might tell you.”

Mordred looks to Len and me. “Is it okay if I go with Gwen?” he asks.

“Sure. We need to have that chat with Merlin anyway,” Len says, before I can get past the teenager already treating us like we’re his proper guardians.

“It was nice meeting you,” Gwen says with a bright smile.

The only thing that keeps me from sinking back into the Speed Force to question what was nice considering I spent the majority of the time freaking out is Len gripping my hand right before I do.

“At least wait until you’ve eaten, Barry,” he whispers, as Gwen and Mordred leave.

I take a breath to stop myself from snapping that he doesn’t get to choose when I use my powers. Snart, _Len_ , is right. I can’t let myself pass out from using my powers too much without eating again. That would just give him more to hold over me. The superhero that can’t even manage his own powers. I bet he’s wishing that he’d set up Captain Cold in a different city. No. I’ve got to remember that Len cares about me. For some reason. He missed me during his time with the Legends. He’s not like _them_.

“You wanted to talk?” Merlin asks, taking a seat at the small table against the wall.

Len gives me a look, making sure I’m okay first, and then sits across from the sorcerer. “We did,” he says.

I sit next to Len and cross my arms. “What’s your problem with Mordred?”

Merlin shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I snarl, in no mood to be dealing with someone treating a child like he’s somehow dangerous.

“What would you know of destiny?”

I laugh. It’s sharp, without any humour, and makes Len wince.

“Time is too fragile for something as permanent as destiny to exist,” I say. “It has a habit of repairing itself, but never in a way you could predict, and never the same as it was before.”

“That may be the case in your world, but–”

“Time is just as fragile in this world as any other,” Len interrupts, and then seems to shake himself like he wasn’t expecting to say that.

I almost ask him what’s wrong, but then Merlin says, “Mordred’s destiny is to kill Arthur. I will do whatever it takes to stop him,” and I’m too shocked to worry about the thief.

“You think _Mordred_ is destined to kill Arthur? Mordred? Have seen that kid? He’s adorable, and hero worships both you and Arthur way too much to turn on you. The only way he could possibly kill Arthur is from a cuteness overload.” 

“You should listen to Barry. He’s the expert on all things adorable,” Len says.

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Len opens his mouth, abruptly closes it, clears his throat, and looks away.

I ignore whatever that was in favour of turning back to Merlin. “Seriously though, Mordred’s just a kid. He’s not going to be killing anyone.”

Merlin’s also looking at me weirdly, but I figure that’s just because nobody’s made him face the fact that he’s accusing an actual child of future regicide. I guess this settles it then. Len doesn’t seem to think so considering his weird expression, but Merlin offers no other reasons, so I start asking him questions about the citadel and where I might find small tools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a forced to share a bed trope if neither of them really acknowledges it? Probably. If Unremarkable taught me anything, it’s that good things can come out of overdone tropes. It’ll still be a little while until Barry gets past his obliviousness though, and the bed thing isn’t really a factor. At least not a predominant one.


	8. Lacklustre Security

**LEN**

It takes fourteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds to lose the knight tailing me. Judging by Sir Elyan’s previous performance over the past three days, I have six minutes and twenty-one seconds before he gives up on his search, one minute and thirty-seven seconds before he asks Sir Lancelot for help, and another eight minutes and eleven seconds before Merlin appears to ask me if I’m lost. I’m certain at this point that Lancelot knows about Merlin’s magic, as the knight never seems surprised by the servant’s unnerving ability to find anyone in the castle without appearing to physically search.

I duck into an abandoned servant’s passage, cross the length of the castle in two minutes and nineteen seconds, blend into the busy stairwell that leads to the lower levels thanks to the period-appropriate clothes Gwen made Barry and me, and reach the dungeons within another seven minutes. Not my best time, but it’s not like it takes long to sneak past the guards. Forty-six seconds later and I’m in the castle vaults. I stick to the non-magical looking valuables and pocket a pair of earrings that Lisa would kill for. They’re in a hidden enough spot that a cursory glance won’t notice them missing.

I leave the vaults twelve seconds after I entered them and take thirty-five seconds to pass the guards again. Combining abandoned passages with empty corridors, and taking a detour to a certain room, puts me in the exact middle of the castle within four minutes and eight seconds. By now, Lancelot has no doubt told Merlin that I’m missing, and the servant is tracking me down. I wander around the castle, noting the size of the council chambers, and altogether act like I’ve been spending the day exploring an unfamiliar place. One minute and nine seconds later, a certain magical servant rounds the corridor and looks completely unimpressed.

Right on time.

“Merlin,” I say, not bothering to feign surprise.

“Leonard.” He raises an eyebrow. “Lost again?”

“What gave it away?”

“Your friend’s been looking for you.”

“I thought Barry was busy.”

Doing all that he can to check that Gideon wasn’t affected by our detour without actually activating her. Last I heard, the AI was just fine, and Barry was only checking through all her programming again to be absolutely sure. I’m 86% sure that he’s avoiding pulling apart the extrapolator to find out how damaged it is. Then again, he might’ve decided to go for it since this morning.

“He never looks busy when I pass by,” Merlin says.

That’s because Scarlet learned the wonders of being careful.

“Scarlet’s trying to find out how we ended up in Camelot,” I say instead, which isn’t technically a lie. “He doesn’t have to look busy to be thinking over thousands of variables.”

“And what are you doing?” Merlin asks. “Aside from getting lost.”

“This is the first time I’ve been in a castle. You can’t fault me for wanting to explore a little.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Clearly.”

It would surprise me if Merlin truly trusted anyone, not that I blame him considering the death sentence hanging over his head if his magic comes to light.

“But Arthur has decided that he does, so Elyan will no longer be following you.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if someone else was assigned the job instead. Most probably someone subtler than Gwen’s brother.

“For a moment there, you almost had me thinking that you were the one in charge of the castle’s security.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I’m just Arthur’s servant.”

Sure. Like I’m just a pickpocket.

“I’m guessing Barry’s back in our chambers then?” I ask.

“I happen to be heading that way,” Merlin says, most probably telling the truth in the vaguest sense of the term.

I wave my hand. “After you then.”

*

Mordred has found a small sword. Well, I say _found_ , but I have little doubt that the Prince was behind that discovery. Arthur seems to have taken an interest in the kid’s wellbeing, which I’m not entirely opposed to, considering that makes him more lenient to our presence here, but it’s hard not to wince at the sight of a thirteen-year-old swinging a sword around in the middle of our room. Barry seems to be half keeping an eye on the kid, and half fiddling with the extrapolator, so at least I don’t have to worry about Mordred losing a finger.

Mick would find it hilarious that I’m semi-responsible for another kid too eager to prove themselves. So would Lisa, even if she was that kid last time.

“You were looking for me, Barry?” I ask, leaning against the wall and giving Merlin a pointed look until the servant leaves.

“Where were you?” the speedster asks.

“Around.”

He rolls his eyes. “I needed a second opinion on something.”

“And you trusted me to give it?” I ask, already walking over to him.

“It’s not like anyone else here is familiar with technology on this level.”

I lounge in the chair next to him. “What’s the problem?”

“What isn’t?” Barry mutters, passing the extrapolator over. “So I already knew that it was shorted out, right?”

“From excess static,” I recall.

“Not just that though.” He taps his makeshift screwdriver against the table. “Otherwise it wouldn’t have worked in the first place. I’m pretty sure that the static overloaded it, which brought us off course, and then the energy needed to come here caused some sort of backlash, which fried the extrapolator.”

I eye the charred device. “Can you fix it?”

“Yes?”

“You asking or telling me?”

Barry snatches the device back. “Telling. It’ll take some time, but that isn’t the real problem.”

“Which is?”

“Energy.”

I sigh. “I’m guessing that you haven’t figured out a way to harness your static to power it then.”

“If I had access to my lab, I’d just set up a lightning catcher and throw a bolt at it. No problem.”

“But not doable here.”

Barry slumps back. “I’d need conductive metals to start with, and I don’t know how many are even available here. Practically, I would make something that harnesses static electricity instead of outright lightning because the second is way less stable and would need more tests. I’m not even sure if I could test anything because I’ve only got so much power left in my laptop, and I don’t even have the right equipment to measure anything. It’s going to be a lot of guesswork before I’d chance trying to power anything.”

“So we find some copper jewellery, use it to make a basic circuit, and use one of our phone batteries as a tester.”

“You have your phone on you?”

“You don’t?”

Barry opens his mouth to answer and then disappears in a flash of lightning. I slowly turn to Mordred who, as expected, has dropped his sword. Luckily, Scarlet was there before the kid lost a toe.

“And that’s why I insisted you practice here instead of in your room,” Barry says, handing the sword back. “I think you should give it a break now. Your arms have to be aching at this point.”

Mordred pouts but does as he’s told. Yet Merlin is still being weird about the kid. At least he isn’t acting outright suspicious anymore, even if that’s because he’s too busy figuring out whether I’m a threat or not. I suppose that I am, if one considers misplacing valuables as a threat, but otherwise, I’m hardly worth the focus. Surely, there are assassins and the like that Merlin could better spend his time hunting down.

Barry slumps back into his chair right as our door opens and Arthur storms in. I pocket the extrapolator and turn to the Prince in the same motion.

Mordred stares at Arthur with wide eyes. “I swear that I only just stopped training, milord.”

The Prince’s ire fades. “That’s good to hear, Mordred. If it’s alright, I’d like to talk to your guardians for a moment.”

The kid nods and rushes off to his room, thankfully leaving the sword behind. I wouldn’t put it past him to try practising in private.

“Problem?” I ask.

Arthur sighs. “Not with you two. You’ve already been cleared off the suspect list.”

Barry shoots me a ‘what have you done now?’ look, one I’m used to seeing when he’s in the Flash mask. I shrug and turn back to Arthur.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Somebody has broken into our vaults, stolen a pair of earrings, and then left them in my chambers.”

If nothing’s technically missing, then nobody would have a reason to search our bags and question the contents.

“You have vaults?” Barry asks, pointedly not looking at me now.

He’s definitely figured it out already. I’m both disappointed and impressed that he thinks me not being on the suspect lists means that I absolutely did it. Disappointed because it could have not been me for once, but impressed that he figured it out. Then again, I guess he just knows me and my methods that well at this point.

“Heavily guarded vaults,” Arthur says, and I only just stop myself from laughing at that. “But apparently, it doesn’t matter how many guards there are if they’re all equally incompetent. It’s bad enough that _Mer_ lin was right about something. He’s not the one who has to organise a new training regimen for all current and future guards.”

“But if we’re not suspects, then why come here?” Barry asks.

It could be that someone did see me, and Arthur is setting up a trap to catch me by telling us that we’re not suspects.

“Back in Central City, you bring criminals to justice for a living,” Arthur says. “I was hoping that you’d be willing to help me cover the clear gaps in the guards’ training.”

Seems right up Scarlet’s alley.

“You know, I think that Len here would be far better at that than me.”

Oh, so it’s going to be like that then.

I shake my head. “There’s only so much that I could teach them, Barry. You have so much more experience dealing with thieves.”

“You’ll both help then,” Arthur says. “Meet me in my chambers for lunch tomorrow. We can get started then. I’ll have Leon keep an eye on Mordred while we’re busy. I’m sure the knights won’t mind having a temporary squire to help out.”

I wonder if Arthur would be so insistent on teaching Mordred to fight if he knew about the kid’s magic. All I’ve got to go on the Prince’s opinion is the standing law and Merlin’s thoughts on the matter. But it’s not exactly something I’m willing to risk testing.

“Really?” Barry says once Arthur is gone.

I shrug. “It’s not my fault that this castle has lacklustre security.”

He crosses his arms. “That’s not an excuse.”

“C’mon, Scarlet. Surely, you find this a little bit funny. Look at it this way; technically, I’m not stealing a thing. I’m just rearranging the castle’s decorations.”

His mouth twitches.

“And can you imagine the look on Arthur’s face when he realised where the earrings were from? I’m surprised we didn’t hear him yell at the guards from here.”

Barry snorts. “Okay, fine. It was a _little_ funny.”

“Only a little?”

“Len, I’m trying to be serious.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m hurting anyone or keeping anything for myself. And maybe now they’ll finally improve their security. I’m practically doing a service to the kingdom.”

“Oh, a service to the kingdom, is it?” he asks, grinning. “Guess that means you’re still a terrible villain.”

I roll my eyes. “I’d have too much competition if I tried being a villain in Camelot.”

“Like that would ever stop you.”

“True, but you would try, and then you’d outclass all of the heroes here and nobody would remember them in the future.”

Scarlet turns a little scarlet at that. “It’s only because I have powers.”

“I did say all the heroes, didn’t I? Pretty sure that counts Merlin, and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the guy has some insane magical power.”

“There’s no way that I’m better than him or any of the knights here. They’re like the original heroes.”

I shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Math with time is annoying. Doable but annoying.


	9. Drinking Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I got a job back in August (and it is awesome), and my time decided to run away. I’ve caught it now, so I’ll hopefully be updating weekly again. Provided the world doesn’t end. It is 2020. Anything’s possible.

**BARRY**

The last variation should’ve worked. Well, maybe not to the point of preventing an overload, but it should’ve at least conducted something to the battery. Unless there’s a problem with the circuit itself. Maybe the copper Mordred got from the market wasn’t pure enough. If I try some from that other stall, then maybe the result will change.

I’ll just run the test now before–

A hand snaps onto my arm. “ _What_ exactly is so important that it can’t wait until morning?” Len asks slowly.

“Testing a variation on the circuit,” I say, wincing when it comes out more like I’m asking him.

Len tugs me back. I could easily break free, but I guess that it is kind of late. Besides, trying to work by candlelight is too difficult.

“Don’t know how you survived without me,” Len mutters.

“It’s not like I was alone,” I point out. “Gideon was there.”

He doesn’t have a snarky response for that, if only because he’s already fallen back asleep. That explains why he hasn’t released my arm either. I’m pretty sure that tugging it free would wake him back up, and I don’t want to face an extra grump Captain Cold in the morning, so I guess that I’m stuck here.

Might as well try to sleep again.

*

“You truly think these measures will deter thieves?” Arthur asks, as Len slips another stolen artefact into the Prince’s wardrobe.

“Absolutely,” Len lies.

Sunlight glints off one of Arthur’s rings. Maybe I need a more conductive metal…

“Some might just see the increased security as a challenge,” I say, while calculating how many weeks of pay will add up to enough testing material. “But continuing to train your guards should stop most thefts.”

“What about our persistent one?” Arthur asks, but I mostly tune him out.

We’re going to be stuck here for months if I don’t at least have a functional circuit finished soon. Is there even going to be a city left when we get back? Or will everyone assume that Barry Allen went missing and the Flash finally stopped terrorising Central City?

“So long as they can get past your guards, they’re going to keep breaking into your vaults,” Len says.

*

Please, for the love of science, just have one thing that isn’t complete nonsense.

“Your friend is the thief, isn’t he?” Gwaine asks, easily blocking Mordred’s clumsy strikes.

“Best in the world,” I mutter, while flipping past another archaic description in the borrowed metals book.

“At least one of your fathers knows how to have fun,” the Knight says, as I slam the book shut.

It has to be gold. There’s no other option.

*

“Gideon, check…” I sigh. “Never mind. You’re not here.”

*

Two hours until the sun rises. Or maybe it’s five minutes. If I didn’t keep accidentally slipping into the Speed Force, it’d be easier to keep track of time.

*

The half-hazard circuit blurs. The castle sways. The door slams open.

“Where’s your friend?” Merlin asks, his eyes gold.

I need gold for the circuit, so I can…

“Len’s getting Barry some food,” Mordred says, smiling brightly at the other warlock.

“I’m not hungry,” I mumble, putting my head down for the moment.

*

“This stops now.”

“Okay,” I say to the voice, and flick another jolt of static at the circuit.

Nothing happens.

A hand grips my shoulder. “You need to sleep.”

“One more–”

Len, because of course it’s Len, tugs me out of the chair. “We’re talking in the morning.”

“Okay.”

*

Maybe hiding in an abandoned room on the other side of the castle is a bit too much, but I can finally think now, so there’s no point having some serious talk with Leonard Snart of all people. I am _this_ close to figuring out how to get this circuit working with low quality metals and Len’s phone battery. If I could just have a few hours of peace, then I know that I’ll finish it. I wish I could slip into the Speed Force, but that’d interfere with the experiment, so I’m stuck with the slow method.

The door slams open. I clench my jaw and keep pulling apart what used to be a cheap bracelet.

“I cannot believe you right now, Barry Allen,” Len says.

“Give me a minute, and–”

“I’ve given you three weeks.”

It hasn’t been that long. Has it? Doesn’t matter.

“I’ve got to get this done,” I say.

“You need a break.”

“Trying to take a break was what got us into this mess,” I point out, trying not to look up as he takes the chair opposite me. “Clearly, I’m better off not relaxing.”

Len scoffs. “I’ve stolen a quarter of the castle’s vaults, and you haven’t even batted an eye, Scarlet.”

“I thought you were ‘just rearranging the castle’s decorations’,” I retort, glancing up at him for a nano-second, “If you were actually stealing, I’d stop you.”

That earns me a Captain Cold scowl.

“At this point, I don’t know that you’d notice if I stole anything that wasn’t essential for you to repair the extrapolator.”

I put my improvised pliers down and glare at him. “Well, sorry if I’m actually trying to get us home instead of… What exactly have you been doing? Aside from causing trouble out of boredom?”

“Cementing our position in the castle, so we don’t have to fight our way out and find different accommodations for us and the kid.” Len leans back and crosses his arms. “Oh, and doing this little thing called living. You might have heard of it.”

That doesn’t mean I remember _how_.

But I swallow that comment back. “Do you even care that we get back?”

Len opens his mouth, closes it, scowls, and curses a few times.

“Not as much as I care about you,” he says, sounding like he’s forcing every word out.

And I can’t claim that’s a lie, not with the way he’s looking vaguely ill as if he’d rather have not said anything.

“Right. I forgot.”

Len rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath about ‘unbelievable speedsters’.

I glance away from the first person to actually care in too long. “Help me carry this back to our room, and I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

“You won’t regret this,” Len says.

And I can’t help believing him.

*

I forgot how beautiful the castle was. It’s harder to ignore my surroundings now with Len pointing out all the secret passages he’s been taking to avoid the guards. Every time I think we’re going to head to ours and Mordred’s rooms next, the former villain takes another detour. I’m pretty sure we’ve been walking around the castle for hours now, but I can’t bring myself to mind. The wandering is burning off some of my excess energy that’s been building up since we arrived on this Earth. Eating and sleeping properly or not, I’m still used to accessing the Speed Force a lot more often.

“Feeling less like a mad scientist yet, Scarlet?”

I go to scoff, but pause at the genuine concern badly hidden behind pure snark. “Yeah, I am. Thanks, Len.”

He clears his throat. “Great, you’ll be ready for our next destination then.”

With that, Len abruptly turns around and starts striding through the castle like he owns the place. It’s very similar to the way Arthur walks actually.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“The Rising Sun. Gwaine was gathering people for a drinking competition. I want to watch you drink every last one of them under the table.”

“It’s barely noon,” I point out.

Len smirks. “Meaning you’ll have no shortage of challengers.”

Who might spill information if they’re inebriated, but I doubt I need to tell Len that. It’s probably part of his plan. It wouldn’t be like Leonard Snart to not have plans within plans after all.

“How much are you going to bet on me?” I ask instead.

He doesn’t answer.

Pre-Flashpoint Barry might have had a problem with one of his villains blatantly making plans to profit off his powers.

“Set some of your winnings aside for Mordred,” I say.

“Of course.”

Pre-Flashpoint Barry had worse friends. More of them, maybe, but the number doesn’t matter when they’re not willing to stick around.

*

Medieval taverns reek. Sure, most people on this Earth aren’t the best smelling lot out there, what with there being no sanitation facilities, but that’s nothing on the stench of the Rising Sun. Len must notice me make a face because he laughs.

“It’s just like Saints,” he says.

“Saints smelled a hell of a lot better than this.”

“Some nights maybe, but not all of them.”

“Leonard! Bartholomew!”

It’s hard to look away from Len’s disgruntled cat impression, but I somehow manage it without outright laughing at him. Gwaine is standing on one of the longer tables, a tankard in his hand, and his fellow Round Table Knights trying tug him back into his seat.

“It’s just Len and Barry, Gwaine,” I say.

Lancelot, at least I think that the too-pretty knight is Lancelot, successfully manages to pull Gwaine off the table.

“We’re just waiting for Merlin now,” probably Lancelot says.

“And Arthur,” Leon says, while moving aside so Len and I can sit on his bench. “You did invite the Prince, didn’t you?”

Elyan shrugs. “He and Gwen are going riding together.”

“Without Merlin?” Percival, who I thought was a meta when I first saw him, says.

“The Princess must’ve realised that dragging Merlin along wasn’t romantic,” Gwaine says.

“Gwen probably gave him the day off,” Lancelot says.

“Probably,” the other knights agree.

Keeping track of their conversation is starting to hurt my head, but I doubt Len would let me leave within the next few hours, let alone this early.

“Who’s paying today?” Len asks, kicking my leg when I start eyeing off the exit.

Elyan raises his hand. “I bet against Percival.”

“Fool,” Leon mutters.

“I did warn you,” Lancelot says.

“Even I don’t bet against good ol’ Percy,” Gwaine says.

“He can’t possibly always win,” Elyan says.

Percival pats his back. “I really can.”

“Unless it’s against Merlin,” Elyan points out.

“Merlin cheats,” Leon says. “I’m not sure how yet, but he’s definitely been cheating for years.”

“He’s more talented than you give him credit for,” Lancelot says.

“He’s more talented than he gives himself credit for,” Gwaine says, signalling a barmaid for a round: a gesture that doesn’t change between Earths.

“Sounds like someone I know,” Len says, pointedly not looking at me.

I elbow him. “Right back at you.”

He elbows me back. “Never said I was talking about you, Scarlet.”

“Cut the act, Snart. You’re a better friend than… Well, than _they_ were. Even if you tried to kill me a few times.”

“If I wanted to kill someone, they’d be dead, Barry.”

“I know,” I say.

His dad is proof enough of that.

“I know you do.” Len semi-permanent smirk drops. “Just like I know that you’ve needed a proper break since before I left Central.”

“Why didn’t you say something then?”

He shrugs and moves away slightly, glancing sideways at me. “Wasn’t sure my advice was wanted.”

And there’s something too intense in his eyes that makes me swallow and look away. Most of the knights are fighting over who can be the most chivalrous in helping the barmaid with the drinks. Lancelot though, he’s watching Len and I with a faint smile. I’m not sure that I want to know what he seems to find funny. Merlin arrives as the tankards finally settle on the table. He sidesteps a hug from Gwaine, slips into the free spot next to Lancelot, and whispers something in the knight’s ear.

“Only you, Merlin,” Lancelot says, pushing his tankard over to the warlock.

Merlin barely takes a sip before he turns to us. “So you gentlemen think you can outdrink our champion?”

Len shrugs. “Between the two of us, we’ll have at least half of you under the table.”

“ _Between the two of us_ ,” I repeat with a snort. “Like you’ll be helping.”

“I could always cheer,” he deadpans.

I roll my eyes, drain my tankard in one go, and slam it down.

Gwaine grins. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

“Who’s your champion, anyway?” I ask, taking Len’s tankard with a ‘thanks’.

They all turn to Percival, which should’ve been more obvious. The bear of a knight downs his tankard without pausing for a single breath.

“Taking bets now,” Gwaine says. “Elyan?”

“I’m staying out of this one,” Elyan says.

“A wise decision,” Leon says, even as he hands Gwaine a pile of coins. “On Percival.”

Len matches the amount. “On Barry.”

“You have a lot of faith in your friend,” Lancelot says, putting his coins on Percival.

“Barry has a habit of pulling through when you least expect it.”

And screwing everything up when it should be simple.

I chase that thought away with another gulp of mead, not that the alcohol is good for anything but a distraction.

Even though the competition is meant to be between Percival and me, Gwaine and Elyan try to keep up. Gwaine because he ‘can’t resist being the underdog’ and Elyan because he ‘doesn’t want to think about how many coins he’s losing today’. Leon drinks about as much as Merlin and occasionally sips more when someone eggs him on. Lancelot is doing the same as Len, just passing his full tankards onto his challenger. Regardless of how much mead they’re drinking, all of the knights seem to lose their inhibitions at the same rate. Soon enough, Gwaine is back on the table, dancing this time, and nobody’s trying to stop him.

It’s fun, hanging out here with people I barely know and don’t at all trust, almost as much as when I’d go out with Caitlin and Cisco to test Cait’s latest concoction to get me drunk. I won’t pretend that everything that they did Pre-Flashpoint was somehow bad just because they abandoned me later. If I did that, I’d be throwing away perfectly good memories. But I also won’t pretend that it’s not easier to be here, where literally nobody expects me to save the day, not even Len, despite him wholly believe that I could. It’s refreshing.

Or maybe that’s the fifth tankard of mead.

“How are you not passed out right now?” Gwaine whisper yells.

I laugh and start chugging my sixth tankard. “Secret.”

For about three seconds, it almost feels like I’m getting tipsy, but then my metabolism kicks in and the sensation stops.

Len flicks another coin onto the bet pile. “Still think Percival can beat him?”

Lancelot reaches across the table and claps his friend’s shoulder. Percival sways.

“Not at all,” Lancelot says.

Elyan pushes another tankard at Percival and adds another coin. “Percy always wins.”

Percival picks up the tankard, chugs it in one breath, and promptly falls off the bench. I finish my tankard off and grab Merlin’s mostly full one.

“Anyone else?” I ask, already drinking.

The knights just groan. Len takes his winnings with a smug smile that wouldn’t be out of place on a cat. The candlelight flickers off one of the coins and I immediately pocket one.

“Stealing from me, Scarlet?” Len murmurs.

“Need it for the circuit.”

“You could’ve asked.”

I shrug and push away from the table. “Too used to being told no.”

Gwaine hits the table with a thud and starts snoring.

Lancelot stands up. “Who’s helping me cart this lot back to the castle?”

Merlin and Leon volunteer. It’s almost funny seeing them each struggle with a different knight. Lancelot tugs Percival up and over his shoulder without much trouble and leads the march. Merlin grabs Gwaine before Leon can, leaving the red-haired knight with the semi-conscious Elyan. The other patrons stand aside to let them through. Elyan dumps a coin bag on the bar right before passing out too.

“We should head back too,” Len says.

“Worried that I might actually have enough mead to get drunk?”

“You need fresh air.”

And with that, Len tugs me out of the tavern like I’m as drunk as the knights, my arm looped around his shoulders. I don’t bother fighting him. It’s better that nobody thinks I’m completely unaffected anyway. Besides, Len’s surprisingly warm. He doesn’t move away until the Rising Sun is out of sight, and even then, he sits us down next to each other against one of the castle’s walls.

“Ready to talk properly yet?” Len asks.

I let my head fall back against the wall. “Do I have to?”

“No.”

And I can tell from his open expression that he really will let this go if I ask him to. It doesn’t make sense. Not really. How could someone who took delight in being a villain care so much when…? When they couldn’t.

“How could they?” I ask quietly, staring out at the citadel. “How could they just abandon me like that? I thought that they were my friends, _my family_ , but then they tossed me aside like everything that I’ve done didn’t matter. I’ve tried to do better, to become everything they’ve asked of me, but I can’t. I don’t think that anyone could keep going like that. It was unfair of them to expect that much from me. _I know that_. But that doesn’t suddenly make it any easier, okay? I want to be angry at them, to wish that their lives are worse off without me, but I know that they’re not. All of them have better lives without me there. Everyone’s better–”

“I’m not,” Len says. “And I doubt that anyone else is either. You make people’s lives better, Barry. It’s just who you are. Anyone who doesn’t see that–”

“Is an idiot?” I guess.

“So you can learn.”

I laugh. And laugh. And laugh. It’s not that funny, and judging by Len’s frown, he knows that, but that doesn’t stop the utter relief I feel at being able to laugh here with someone who cares more about me than what I can do for them. It’s no surprise when my laughter turns to tears. Len sighs, tugs me against his side, and murmurs assurances while I finally let it all out.

“Thank you,” I eventually say, rubbing my eyes and wincing at the wet patch on the thief’s tunic.

“I didn’t do much.”

“Only saved my life.”

And I don’t mean the medical care back at Star Labs. Judging by Len’s small nod, he gets that.

“I better not catch you trying to science in the middle of the night again, Barry.”

My face burns, and I bury it in my hands. “I thought that was just a dream.” Actually, now that I think about it. “Gwaine knows that you’ve been redecorating.”

“That explains why he’s been friendlier lately.”

It’s easier, this back-and-forth with Len than that pressure to always be at my best underlying every interaction with Cait, Cisco, and Joe. I’m not sure that I would’ve realised if they hadn’t left. At least one good thing came out of it. Len grins as he details his joint plan with Gwaine to continue terrorising Arthur. Okay, make that two good things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot possibly explain how excited I am to write the next few chapters. The rest of this fic and series is finally getting places, and the universe better let me have time to write it. Next chapter: Self-Sacrificing Idiots. I think the next chapter thing is something I’ll do from now on. We’ll see if it works.


End file.
